


A Sepulcher of Prayer

by Articianne, holocroning



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Force Bond, Jedi!Rey, Leia Organa Deserved Better, POV Alternating, Post TLJ, Renperor, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, TROPETOWN USA, Time Jump, first order dystopia AU, will have explicit smut in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 72,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Articianne/pseuds/Articianne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/holocroning/pseuds/holocroning
Summary: Four years have passed since Kylo Ren betrayed his master and assumed the role of Supreme Leader of the First Order.  He has one goal: eradicate all memory of the Jedi and their teachings. It has nothing to do with Rey, or the deafening silence in his mind since the day the Resistance fell. Nothing at all.





	1. Chapter 1

It was pouring on Lothal. Rain pelted from the sky and beat into Kylo’s shoulders as lightning flashed overhead. A different sort of lightning crackled at his fingertips, and just as lethal. Kylo hadn’t always hated the rain, though it was becoming more and more difficult to remember how things had been back then. _Before_. Before the all-consuming, desperate rage had taken root in his bones where it’d festered and spread for the past four years. Before he’d been overcome by the need to destroy. It was all he was _supposed_ to focus on. Not what’d happened before he’d betrayed Snoke and taken his dead master’s place as Supreme Leader.

Kylo hadn’t hated rain then, when he’d felt the ghost of it on his face, but everything was different now. She’d spared him nothing.

Jaw clenching, he trudged on through the mud flanked by three shadows on his left and two on his right. Clad head to toe in obsidian helms and armor, his Knights were hardly discernible in the darkness of the rain-soaked plain. He heard the splash of their footfalls, the labor of their breathing and the occasional rumble of thunder that sank from the air into the ground—but no other life stirred.

The temple sat alone atop the hill: an ancient megalithic spire, made of stone and one of few temples left untouched by the Galactic Civil War. Kylo sensed it was empty, like everything else the Jedi had built. He would be its ruin.

“I used to dream of this place,” said a voice from his left. The words were spoken through a modulator, and distinctly low and female. Yuzha was right, in a way. It was familiar. But it was familiar in all the wrong ways.

His Knights’ helmets glinted with the shimmer of the rain as they turned toward him, waiting for his word. Kylo could feel their apprehension, knew that they were wondering if this was the last temple he’d destroy, if he’d be finally be satisfied afterwards. After four years of pillaging, he sensed that even their seemingly endless desire for ruin and destruction had started to fade. They’d ravaged more temples than he could remember, destroyed more holocrons, amulets, and pendants than he could count. He hadn’t known so many paper scrolls had survived the destruction of the Old Jedi Order before he’d begun to burn them.

It wasn’t enough.

He’d found Sith artifacts and temples along the way, and they hadn’t been enough either. He’d destroyed them too.

Kylo eyed what should have been the temple’s entrance, the dark hood of his cloak doing little to shield his face as it fluttered about over mud-soaked armor. This was where Skywalker might have taken him, to determine his fitness to receive Knighthood. Kylo scowled at the thought. He reached for his blade, fingers trembling as they closed around the crossguard hilt. Smoke clung to the raindrops, intermingled with the rotten tang of burning corpses and beneath it all, the sharp scent of spine trees. It hadn’t been necessary to slaughter the villagers who’d greeted their transport in Pelamir Gorge, but it’d been years since Kylo had given any thought to things like _necessity_ or justice or really, anything at all. Darkness seared his veins, coursing through him like a toxin that made him drunk and filled his hollow heart. Some days, it was his only source of sustenance.

“Master?” Sobu called from his right. Kylo turned his head to the willowier man, who, like all the other Knights, was about a head shorter than him in height. He was one of the shortest except for Lokka, who hummed beside him. The two of them stood out in their zeal and violent loyalty to Kylo, with the way their hands curled around their blades, ready to tear the planet apart if he said the words. For all they knew, he might have.

Sobu still waited for orders. _Master_ —the word hung in the rain. They were the only ones who didn’t refer to him as Supreme Leader.

Though he’d never been to Lothal, Kylo had heard tales of this place. In older days, the Lothal Jedi temple was only accessible through the joint efforts of a master and apprentice, working in union to lift the spire and reveal the temple’s entrance. Kylo had never been fond of convention, let alone traditional Jedi ways. He lifted a single gloved hand towards the temple’s facade, the deaths of the villagers still reverberating under his skin, and _pushed_. An ear-splitting _crack_ rent the air, louder than any boom of thunder, and a large fissure appeared in the rock.

“Push through,” he ordered, and his Knights moved forward with their weapons to bludgeon an entrypoint through the weakened stone. Only a few minutes passed before a human-sized hole had been made, shards of rock littering the grass at the foot of it. The entry’s walls smoked with the char of lightsabers and the Force was all around them, humming and buzzing erratically like it’d been suddenly woken from sleep. Kylo knew they felt it too.

He ignited his blade in turn, red serrated light splitting the darkness as he stepped inside. The sound of the rain dulled to a muted steady rhythm, replaced by the crackling of the plasma from his hilt. It glinted off his Knights’ armor, illuminating their helms: Yuzha’s was less battle-scarred than Sobu’s, cold attention given to maintaining its intimidating gleam. Further back, he heard Lokka hiss with excitement. Red, shuddering light spilled onto the humid walls of the temple’s interior as they moved deeper into the megalith, where glyphs and tiles faded into the stone. The need in his blood mimicked the glow, shaking through his arms and curling his fingers tighter around the hilt of his weapon.

He inclined his chin forward, voice soft and slow. “Burn this place to its core.”

There was a second of silence, filled only with the hum of the lightsabers and the drizzle of rain. Then his Knights started forward with the _clinking_ of armor and the hum of their weapons, and the silence passed. It was like this every time. Maybe this temple’s destruction would be enough to satisfy him; maybe this one would finally calm the tremors that kept him up at night. _No._ The finality of ruin always lasted for a bare moment, but then it shattered when his hands still shook and his teeth ground together to fill the emptiness that echoed through his head.

Pillars lined the entry, some of them more intact than others. Kylo noted a few skeletons too, slumped against the walls and garbed in earth-tone robes that’d been devoured by time. Old Jedi Masters, whose padawans had failed them.

Moving deeper into the temple, something on the wall caught Kylo’s eye. Amongst the glyphs and crumbling pockets in the stone there was a script, carved with a lightsaber judging by the charred outline of the text’s jagged edges. It almost looked like Aurebesh, but not quite; some long-dead proverb of the Old Jedi Order. Dragging a hand along the wall and tracing the text he thought, _When I am finished, there will be no one left who remembers._

As his Knights disbanded to wreak their devastation on the temple, Kylo followed the pulse of the Force which emanated from deep in the labyrinth beneath. Below the megalith was a system of caverns: a maze filled with ancient energies and ghosts of days long past. Those weak in the Force risked losing their way in the caves, doomed to wander the subterranean darkness until their bodies gave out. Kylo’s wrath gave him clarity—moreso than any Jedi meditations or mantras ever had. The ferocity in him thudded with each step he took as he descended a winding stairwell to the depths of the temple. His lightsaber crackled in his hand, its eerie glow guiding him deeper until the ground evened out.

Whispers reverberated through the tunnels, speaking in tongues Kylo had never heard. If there were Force ghosts lingering, they didn’t show themselves. Another sound behind him made him turn, only to see Mahad and Volta had followed him. They loomed large and wide in the cavern, Mahad brandishing both a broadsword and his lightsaber, the lower half of his helmet nearly completely destroyed, while Volta stood as still as a ticking bomb. They kept on.

Red light bled into blue as a new, ethereal glow appeared some ways into the depths. It was the wellspring he’d been sensing; a fountain of energy flowing from the planet’s core. Stepping around a cluster of stalagmites, Kylo came to a large, airy chamber. In the center was a well, built of stone and engraved with old glyphs and scripts. Like everything else in the temple, it was crumbling.

“I can practically taste it,” Mahad grunted, shifting his weight to lean on his broadsword which he’d planted in the ground.

Kylo could too: a sharp, bitter taste like cold water laced with scry-mint. He scowled. “It’s potent. Likely tied to the planet’s life force.”

Treading closer, he saw the base of the well was lined with holocrons—filled with old records and datafiles from the pilgrims who’d established the temple, or those who’d subsequently visited. It didn’t matter if they were dead now; he’d eviscerate their memory too. Adrenaline shot up his spine and into his palms. Gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands, Kylo made a staggering charge for the well, razing the majority of the holocrons with one fell blow. A shattering sound echoed off the walls, the only sound in the cavern. One, two more strikes and he’d smashed the rest. They lay in smoldering pieces on the floor.

A beat passed. Sensing scrutiny from his subordinates, Kylo twisted around to face them with his weapon still in hand. To no one in particular he said, “Is there a problem?” They watched him silently beneath their helmets, eyes plastered on his heaving shoulders and defensive stance—he could feel them. Neither of them spoke up. “No?” he said, straightening.

Mahad leaned off his broadsword. Volta didn’t move, but the air seemed to change, fouling their space in the cavern.

“No, Master,” said Mahad, bowing his head toward the ground. Kylo’s eyes drew away from him, instead moving toward Volta, who said nothing. It was almost a challenge.

The air grew thicker, weighing into Kylo’s throat, behind his eyes, in between his fingers. It was _almost_ a challenge, but not yet quite worth his time. Kylo finally looked away from Volta, back to the smoking pile of holocrons at his feet—

“It’s not going to work.”

Volta’s modulator didn’t hide the slight against Kylo, whose blood froze in his veins. The last word echoed through the tunnel. Or perhaps the sound was inside Kylo’s head, his ears beginning to ring with apprehension.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Kylo said.

There was the telltale shift of armor from behind him. “Volta, _don’t_ ,” said Mahad.

“You can destroy as many temples as you want,” Volta continued. He seemed almost giddy saying it. “You can raze as many of these caverns as you can find. It’ll never work.”

Kylo angled his head over his shoulder. Mahad pulled his broadsword from the ground, stepping away, but Volta opted to cock his head in Kylo’s direction in a faceless smirk. Hurried steps belonging to his other knights carried through the slick, humid air of the cavern from further back in the tunnel, near where they’d entered the chamber. Lokka, Sobu and Yuzha appeared, the red glow of their blades pulsing over the cavern walls.

But the sour sensation around Kylo and Volta halted them in their steps. Yuzha, standing at the front, cast a long look in the direction of the shattered holocrons by the well; Lokka rocked side to side in place while Sobu dropped his head in a characteristic bow. Kylo turned to Volta again, but then a prickle at the base of his neck drew his attention back to the well. The energy flowing from it was almost sentient, like it was reaching for him—for all of them. It was _asking_ for something he couldn’t quite identity. He chose to ignore it.

“Again,” Kylo said, turning back to the Knights. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Without the mask modulating his voice, venom dripped from his words and seeped into the humidity. It stretched long, thick, pounding through his head and his ears, and moved slow and burning through his veins. For a long moment, none of the Knights spoke. They were statuesque.

“We’ve been at this for years,” Volta said finally, his words short. “You’re never going to find her.”

White-hot rage flashed behind Kylo’s eyes and his hand shot forward of its own accord, reaching for Volta’s throat with lethal, intangible force. Volta’s hands moved to stop it, but there was nothing he could do. The man would’ve fallen to his knees if in that moment Kylo hadn’t dragged him closer, dangerously near to the jagged, crackling beam of his lightsaber.

“It’s the truth, Master,” Volta choked, fumbling haphazardly with his helmet and managing to cast it aside. He seemed to finally realize he’d been too brash, but it was too late now.

Very carefully, his tongue curling around each syllable and forcing them from his lips with a barely controlled tremor, Kylo whispered, “It’s not about her.” The heat of the blade began to sear the hem of Volta’s cloak.

“It—” sputtered Volta, voice fading in and out in gasps.

“IT’S NOT ABOUT HER,” Kylo shouted. Numbness swept over his arm as he squeezed his weapon’s hilt with a trembling hand, metal digging into his palm. His knuckles were surely bone-white under his black glove. Volta whimpered, eyes bugging.

Yuzha’s voice cut through the tension-thick air. “With all due respect, Master, I think you may have misunderstood—”

Kylo thrust the tip of his lightsaber up towards Volta’s throat, where he still held the Knight with an invisible grip. Volta tried to crane his neck away from the danger, but Kylo only nudged the blade closer in response. Sweat glistened on the man’s skin, red light casting long shadows on his haggard, tormented face. “I understood perfectly,” Kylo snapped.

Yuzha shifted her weight. “I did not mean to imply that—”

With a flit of Kylo’s fingers Yuzha flew backwards, slamming into the wall behind her. Metal cracked against stone, the sound of it ricocheting through the cavern but Kylo’s attention never left Volta. “Didn’t I?” he said, dragging the man an inch closer.

Volta gasped for air, his dark, fearful eyes reflecting the lightsaber’s sinister glow as he paused. A beat passed, and he nodded. His skin looked sickly pale, magnified by the blotchy facial hair that covered his jaw and upper lip. His hair was matted to his forehead, gray streaks darkened with sweat.

Kylo’s eyes darted back and forth between Volta’s, the tension in the air becoming suffocatingly thick for an elongated moment. It passed in an instant; Kylo ran his lightsaber through the man’s gut and skewered him on the cracking blade. Volta crumpled against the well, a look of horror inscribed on his lifeless face. The Force bled from his corpse into the foul cavern air and once more the well seemed to reach out to Kylo’s mind as if begging to taste the slaughter. Kylo obliged. With a swift kick to Volta’s chest, he sent the former Knight’s body crashing through the wellhead to tumble down the shaft. A few bricks tumbled after him.

No sound followed.

“Any other irrelevant insights?” Kylo broke the silence. He didn’t have to see his Knights’ faces to know they were afraid.

For a moment, the only movement in the cavern was the quiver of all their lightsabers. Then one by one the Knights began to extinguish their weapons, blades blinking out of existence until Kylo’s was the only one remaining. His Knights looked like little more than shadows in the dimness. None of them spoke a word, and Kylo didn’t wait for them to do so. Reaching out with the Force, he raked his consciousness over each of theirs to rifle through their thoughts and feelings: shock, regret, anticipation—but mostly just fear. Some of them flinched at the invasion, but he didn’t care. Pain was the greatest teacher.

Stepping forward, Kylo bent down to where Volta’s lightsaber lay near the broken holocrons. His gloved fingers curled around the hilt and immediately, he felt its kyber crystal tremor. It sparked under his grip, surging with violence as if it too had been betrayed. Eyes flashing, Kylo spun around and hurled the hilt into the well. Red exploded into the cavern and the noxious tang of death and mal-intent stung his nostrils, sank to the bottom of his gut like a stone. It was overwhelming. The earth shuddered beneath his boots, accompanied by a groan like the howl of wind, only it wasn’t. They were too far below ground for that.

Dust trickled down from the cavern’s ceiling. And the well was glowing a deep, malignant red.

Kylo glanced at his Knights, then started for the tunnels that would lead them out of the caverns. The Knights following him one by one without question. Around them, the temple began to shudder; tiles cracked, rotted and withered under their steps.

“Is this”—Mahad’s modulator phased over, then settled as they quickened their pace—“Is this all because—”

The question was left unfinished as Kylo swung his arm forward, suspending debris from the crumbling ceiling in mid-air as they broke into a sprint. Finally they broke from the tunnels into the greater temple chamber. Spurts of water poured through the ruptures in the temple’s roof. Glyphs and paintings crumbled all around them, the Jedi proverbs they depicted turning to dust.

It was caving in. Kylo struggled to repel all of the debris as loose rocks turned to boulders breaking free from the disintegrating structure. The makeshift door was just ahead, the ground shaking and rumbling beneath their feet. One by one they poured from the exit, greeted by unrelenting rain that battered Kylo's shoulders and rinsed away the rotten, decaying energy of the wellspring. He slotted his eyes against his wet fringe and angled his head back to the ruined temple. Never again would a Jedi apprentice be left to rot within those cavern walls, failed by both master and orthodoxy. A smile tugged at the corner of Kylo’s lips as the temple’s bones began to scream. Fire glowed from somewhere deep inside.

The Knights skirted back from the spire as it began to sink into the hillside. Lightning split the sky overhead with a _crack_. His Knights glanced at each other, shifting their weight. Just then a litany of whispers grazed Kylo’s ears—Force ghosts of long-dead Jedi, he was sure, likely cursing his name—and a chill shot down his spine.

 _Ben_.

Rey? Kylo’s stomach churned. The notion was ridiculous. She’d never been here. She was dead. He'd have felt her otherwise. But he hadn’t—not once since that day. Kylo pushed the thought from his mind.

“Master?” Sobu asked.

Drenched through by the neverending sheets of rain, the Knights stood behind Kylo. He turned to face them, then followed Sobu’s gaze. The Knight was looking at the grass. It was withering, turning dead and brown beneath their feet.

“Let's go,” Kylo said after a moment, turning on his heel. What used to be thriving plantlife, a grassy meadow now crunched beneath his feet: decayed, deceased. It did nothing to settle Kylo’s bones, nor did the rubble of the temple or the pile of corpses burning in Pelamir Gorge. He would raze it all, until there was nothing left. Only then could the Galaxy begin anew.

 

Sunlight burned Rey’s eyes as she looked up from the alleyway, shielding her gaze with her hand and squinting. It was shortly after midday and stars, it was humid. The sky was blue and the Rakatan sun was bright. Rey was already drenched in sweat, but removing the dark cloak she wore wasn’t worth the risk—wasn’t worth being seen. It was unlikely that anyone would recognize her—she had never been anyone of importance—and Rakata Prime existed on the periphery of the Galaxy, deep within the Unknown Regions. Still, it was less than a comfortable distance from Jakku and the First Order was everywhere.

It hadn’t always been that way. She’d never seen the First Order with her own eyes before that day on the junkyard planet, when TIE fighters had chased her and Finn through Niima Outpost.

 _Finn_.

Her heart ached at the thought of him. For all she knew, he was dead. Four years had passed since she’d last seen him. Everything had changed since then. Slowly but surely, the Resistance had been decimated—General Organa’s worst fears made real. The First Order had moved quickly after that, spreading like cancer through the Galaxy and infecting every star system that stood in its way.

And _he_ was leading the charge.

Rey bit down on the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. He wasn’t the person she’d thought he was, but it was too late to dwell on that now. She didn’t have time. Staying in any place too long was dangerous, and it’d been a month since she’d arrived on Rakata Prime. Her visit hadn’t been particularly _productive_ , either. Within a few days of planetfall, she’d found that the Temple of the Ancients could only be opened by Rakata. It’d taken less time than that to learn that they weren’t a particularly friendly or helpful species, and Rey didn’t dare try gaining access to the temple on her own.

That would require accessing the Force. She refused. If their connection opened, if _he_ found her—

Shaking her head again, Rey slipped from the alley out into the main thoroughfare of the Rakatan bazaar, jerking her hood down over her head. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, as they often did. She couldn’t stand that it’d come to this: that she’d been forced to remove herself from the fight, the way Luke had years ago on Ach-To. She’d criticized him for it then, but now she understood. The Force was dangerous when you were hypersensitive to it. _Everything_ hung on the balance of it, and one wrong move by the individual could mean the destruction of the masses.

This was what she’d been relegated to: scouring the Galaxy in search of ancient Jedi texts, or _anything_ that’d survived the First Order’s purge in hopes of finding something that might absolve her of this bond. It was a liability, and if she ever wanted to return to the fight she’d have to sever it first. That was the truth. Worse, there was no one left to show her how. She’d just have to learn on her own, and if it meant visiting every defunct Jedi temple and monument in the known Galaxy she’d do it.

First, she needed to eat. Rakata Prime was a tropical, oceanic planet—the opposite of Jakku—and the market was filled with meats, vegetables and fruits taken from the depths of the seas or the wilds of the Rakatan jungles. From the moment Rey entered the beachfront bazaar her senses were overloaded. She saw vendors stirring basher shark fin stew, garpons roasting on skewers, buckets of sweetened candleberries and stacks of purple, overripe jogan fruits. Dolo-fish had quickly become her favorite, battered in dough and crusted with pepper flakes. It took all the sense she had not to return to the stall that sold them every day. She could see the red and white striped tarp up ahead.

Keeping her hood pulled low over her face, Rey started down the road. On days like this, it was almost possible to forget everything that’d happened and everything she’d lost. Then she’d reach for her credits, credits gifted to her in a generous sum by the fallen General Organa, and she’d be reminded of everything all over again. That was the hardest truth of all: no matter how far she traveled, no matter how quickly she fled from planet to planet, the First Order would always follow. They would consume and devour, as the dark side did, until there was not a single system, planet or moon left outside of their control. They were close, too. As far as Rey knew, the Unknown Regions were already halfway conquered.

A flash of metal caught Rey’s eye, snapping her back to the present. Instinctively, she dug the balls of her feet into the path, her body coiled like a spring ready to snap—only to realize it was nothing. Just a Rakata taking a pull from a flask and nothing more. Rey sighed and kept on. She’d become so _paranoid_ , especially without the Force to function as a sixth sense.

A hushed Rakatan voice cut into her thoughts from her right as she passed between the booths. “Their crops are rotten, the water’s dried up. That temple’s been there for millennia and they found it in ruins—totally destroyed. People are saying that’s got something to do with it.”

Rey stopped, breath catching in her throat. Her gaze shifted in the direction of the voices, noting two locals exchanging whispers over a tray of raw meats that were still dripping with blood. _Temple?_

“Who did it?”

“Rumor is it was the First Order.”

“Lothal’s not that far from here,” the other, short one replied. His amphibious eyes were narrowed, large forehead drawn with wrinkles.

“They won’t come here.” The first speaker sounded certain. He snatched a cut of meat from the tray and shoved it into his mouth, devouring it in seconds.

“If they do, we’ll kill them. Even the ones at the top.” Sharp, carnivorous teeth glinted in the afternoon light, sending chills racing down Rey’s spine. The Rakata were known for their cruelty and mercilessness, but their society was one of few left untouched by the First Order and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Still, she couldn’t help eyeing the slab of meat the second Rakata was shoving into his mouth, wondering if it’d come from livestock or a more sinister source.

“Kill their Supreme Leader?”

Rey’s heart stopped.

“Why not?” the shorter one replied, blood dripping from his lips. Rey slunk further into the shadows of the nearest stall, dipping behind some tapestries so as not to draw suspicion. A salty sea breeze kissed her cheeks.

“It wasn’t the First Order. They don’t concern themselves with old religious nonsense,” said the first one who’d spoken.

The shorter one shrugged. “Probably right. Their Supreme Leader probably don’t even know what Lothal is. Bet he probably don’t have to think about much besides who’s keeping his bed warm at night.”

Rey’s blood ran cold. Master Luke had spoken of the Lothal Jedi Temple. He’d told her it was an old training facility, that during the height of the Old Jedi Order masters had taken their apprentices there as a rite of passage. He’d never been himself, but still, he’d stressed its significance. She hadn’t gotten the chance to search it yet, and tears returned to her eyes at the notion. What if the answers had been there? And now they were gone?

What if she would never be free of this curse? What if he wasn’t finished taking from her, from the Galaxy, from ruining and pillaging and destroying?

Rey wasn’t sure how she knew it was him—she hadn’t used the Force in years—but somehow, she just _knew_. The thought gripped her heart like a fist. He was still out there, and she knew that one day, he’d be her ruin too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow us at [holocroning](https://holocroning.tumblr.com/) and [articianne](https://articianne.tumblr.com/)/[haikoui](https://haikoui.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Chapter 2

“Supreme Leader. Welcome back.” General Hux greeted the Knights’ transport in the hangar of the _Judicator_ , along with a platoon of armor-clad Stormtroopers. The General’s face was pinched per usual, his posture stiff. His hands were tucked neatly behind his back, hiding pressed sleeves embroidered with silver and cufflinks he spent more time than necessary polishing. Kylo didn’t have to search the General’s sordid thoughts to know the man was disappointed by their return. It was hardly a surprise, anyway. He was _always_ disappointed by anything they did.

“General,” Kylo replied curtly, stalking past his subordinate, without so much as a glance in his direction. Though, as always, he maintained a general wariness of the man.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Hux called after him.

Kylo stopped in his tracks. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Perhaps it was the disgusted curl of the General’s tongue around each syllable, but it took everything Kylo had in him to refrain from crushing Hux’s skull into dust with a twitch of his fingers then and there. Even so (and much to his chagrin) he _needed_ the General. At least for the time being. Through clenched teeth he angled his head back toward the General and said, “Set course for Rakata Prime.” There was a temple there, long overdue for a visit.

To the untrained eye, Hux’s wrinkling nose would have been invisible. “Rakata… Prime.”

Kylo turned his head back around, ignoring the General’s tone. For one elongated minute he felt the seething of Hux’s glare burn into his shoulders. It was only when Hux’s boots clacked together that he knew his order would be followed through.

The General often needed reminders of who’d succeeded Snoke, of who’d taken his place despite it having been _four years_ —but Kylo’s head was pounding and every muscle in his body ached so badly he wanted nothing more than to escape to his chambers where he’d be left alone. Moreover, it would be unwise to show signs of weakness or fatigue in the General’s presence. He was familiar with Hux’s barely restrained satisfaction whenever Kylo ever so much as slipped while he was around; it had only gotten worse with Kylo at the helm.

He glanced down at the glossy floor, catching the vague outline of himself and the pair of Knights that flanked his either side. One less than they’d departed with. He was the only one who wasn’t wearing a helmet and for the first time in a long while, he found himself wishing for the mask if only so it’d hide the deep, sunken bruises beneath his eyes.

Except the thought flickered and died out. He couldn’t give much of a damn about that now.

Mud and grass still clinging to his armor, Kylo looked away and made a swift exit from the hangar bay where Stormtroopers and officers, all Hux’s ilk, were able to scrutinize him with ease. His Knights followed him, keeping close by as they made their way to a long, dimly-lit corridor. Though he was hardly conscious of it, there was something innately comforting about the cool, recycled air of the Star Destroyer; something he liked about the rigidity of day cycles that didn’t wax or wane depending on a planet’s distance from a star. It was the _routine_ things, like filing performance reports, conducting evaluations and screening transports that Kylo took solace in. They kept his mind off of everything else.

The _Judicator_ hadn’t been his flagship for long, but he knew its halls well. Star Destroyers were all the same. Only one had ever felt different, and he preferred to shove every memory he had of the _Supremacy_ to the back of his mind. His mouth quirked downward into a scowl as his thoughts wandered and, with frustration, he tried to lock the reminders of the past away as he always did. Soon he arrived at the blast doors that gave entry to his chambers. An Imperial Guard was stationed on either side, cloaked head to toe in scarlet armor and robes, and wearing helmets that bore the First Order insignia. They weren’t Force-sensitive, but he’d bonded his mind to theirs anyway, much like Snoke had done to him. Only the Imperial Guard made better dogs than he ever had. Better than Hux, too. Kylo was determined not to be betrayed. If something so much as scratched at him, they would do as cur always did and protect him in their mindless allegiance.

His quarters were large, but minimally furnished. The entry corridor led to a lounge where service droids had arranged several black leather sofas and armchairs near a viewport, nauseating to look through while in hyperspace—which was most of the time. Such as now. Kylo passed the lounge to his bedchamber—also minimally furnished, though much larger than the one he’d inhabited previously—and took a seat on the small, twin-sized mattress adjacent to the durasteel wall on the opposite side of the room. Unlike Snoke, he wasn’t interested in material things and displays of grandeur. His quarters were as simple as they’d ever been, only now there was much more _space_ and _empty_.

Seeing the mud he’d tracked in behind him, he glanced at the service droid in the corner and said, “Droid. Bring a clean tunic and take care of this mess.” He paused, glancing toward the sleeper where his linens were neatly tucked and folded, almost unused. No… definitely unused. Kylo couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. Stretching his fingers at his sides and feeling the weight of exhaustion tug at his limbs in response, he added, “And some new linens.”

The service droid paused as it slid over the mud tracks from his boots. When they were gone, it reverted to its meticulous routine of sweeping dust from the otherwise immaculate floor. Kylo turned away and headed toward the ‘fresher adjacent to his quarters. Sending the linens back to be washed would keep up the pretense of his sleeping habits.  

But it would be another long, sleepless night. The nightmares hadn’t died with Snoke; if anything, they’d gotten worse. He swallowed and glared at the door of the ‘fresher as he stepped inside, stripping down layer by layer until he was wearing only his trousers. The clinical air raised nervous bumps along his arms.

His quarters provided his only real solitude, and it was always awful. The emptiness around him rang louder than ever, silence deafening, mind as noiseless as the depths of space—and it had been this way for years, _four years_ , and—

—Kylo nearly broke the rinser from the sink in the midst of his thoughts.

Gripping the rinser’s brim with white-knuckled hands, he glanced up to the mirror, catching his reflection clearer than he had in some time. For a moment his gaze lingered on his sallow complexion, skin stretched tight over gaunt cheeks and jaw. His downturned lips were wan, his hair matted with mud. The worst part was his eyes: swollen and bloodshot, and encircled by dark bruises that contrasted with his otherwise pallid features—bruises that hadn’t really left since that night on Starkiller Base. There was something unrecognizable about his features, and Kylo vaguely wondered at what point he’d stopped seeing a _man_ in his reflection. What he saw now was... something else. Something more dead than alive.

The scar bisecting his face was the only thing Kylo recognized from _before_ , when he hadn’t been the Supreme Leader. Before he’d sacrificed sleep and sustenance for order and conquest, drawing on dark, primordial aspects of the Force to sustain himself instead. He sensed that his Knights thought him paranoid—that the General might make an attempt on his life while he slept, perhaps?—but more than that they feared him, and that was what was important. Fear was power, and power was all he had left.

Kylo tore his eyes from the _thing_ in the mirror, but his loathing had already sunk down into his bones. Shedding the last of his garments, he stepped into the shower and thanked the noise of running water for easing the headache the stillness of his quarters always brought. Two seconds of ignorance passed, during which Kylo allowed himself to enjoy _actual_ water and not the typical sonic he was used to using while away from the _Judicator_. Then the moment passed and the water felt more like poison, prickling his skin as it slipped between wiry muscles that’d shrunk and withered over the last four years.

He’d gained a galaxy, and it’d cost him everything.

One finger lifted to trace the scar on his cheek again, then higher up above his brow. It shaped under the pad of his finger as he frowned. He’d lost everything except _this_ —a perpetual reminder of his failure. The rough, wrinkled tissue was the only thing he recognized from that life long past and he knew it well. He _hated_ it, lived with it every passing day. It was the only thing that’d stayed. No matter how ill he grew or how ashen his reflection became, the scar was there to mock him, both in the mirror and to anyone who passed him in the Star Destroyer’s halls.

Kylo grit his teeth, nearly bit out his tongue, and scrubbed at his skin until it turned red and raw. Lothal fell away from him, as all the temples did, dissipating to the wastes of time and space. When he’d rinsed every trace of that miserable planet from his body he sank to the floor of the 'fresher, closing his eyes in a moment of welcome absolution. Kylo couldn’t let himself rest long, though. He’d press on, until every living memory of the Jedi and their ways had been eviscerated. He _had_ to. It was the only way to free himself and the Galaxy of the wounds they’d left behind.

It wouldn’t be long before they reached Rakata Prime.

Sweat trickled down the back of Rey’s neck, followed by a shiver when an evening breeze swept in off the ocean and over the dusky Rakatan beach. Even at sunset it was hot, and more humid than Felucia had been—both so unlike the desert planet she’d called home. The sea was calm beneath a twilight sky, its glassy surface reflecting vibrant hues of vermillion that bled into indigo. Stars blinked down over gentle waves, which broke over smooth sand and collected in tide pools along the shoreline.

After an afternoon in the market she’d made her way to the outskirts of the port city, near the parts shop where she’d traded droid repair for room and board over the course of the last month. Renting a room would’ve been more than feasible with the sum the General had left her, but she much preferred the distraction of work to being left alone with her thoughts. Besides, it gave the illusion of normalcy, like she wasn’t a Jedi in exile who eavesdropped on customers’ conversations for intel on First Order movements and machinations. She’d been a nobody all her life and it hadn’t been hard to fall back into old ways.

Rey pulled a jogan fruit from her satchel and bit into its taut pink and yellow skin. Wiping juice from her mouth, she glanced up at the sky and eyed the constellations, wondering if she was by some chance looking at Ahch-To’s binary stars. The island hadn’t been home by any means, and Master Luke had never been particularly welcoming, but it’d been the last place that’d felt _right_ … untouched by the First Order. Everything after had been a derailment, a descent into the abyss. Her grip on the fruit tightened, breaking through its skin, damping the tips of her fingers.

She hated admitting it to herself, that _he’d_ had something to do with that sense of rightness, but if she’d learned anything from Luke it was that listening to one’s feelings and being honest with the self was critical. Luke hadn’t been honest, with himself or with his nephew—not until it was too late, and it’d destroyed them both. They’d both failed her in turn, and now she was alone.

A lump formed in her throat, and it took great difficulty to choke her last bite down. For once in her life, her appetite escaped her. Unable to save the half-eaten fruit for later without making a mess of her satchel, she chucked it into the waves and flinched when the splash it made was louder than she’d anticipated.

Her eyes trailed up from the waves to the horizon.

That was when she saw them: three brilliant streaks across the sky, luminous as meteors but much too synchronised, too coordinated to be natural. They were ships; large ones, if she had to bet. The long-standing dread in her stomach jumped—Rey sprung up from where she sat in the mud, finding her footing quickly thanks to years spent traversing Jakku’s dunes and squinting at the sky against the dimness. She thought she saw the glint of a hull or three in the starlight, but she couldn’t be sure. A stone had settled in her stomach now and while she’d cut herself off from the Force, Rey had always had good instincts.

Grabbing her satchel in a hurry, she took off down the beach dodging sea debris and driftwood as she made a run for the line of palms. _Back to the parts shop. Go. Go!_ She had to get back to the parts shop and the attic she’d called home for the last month.

A familiar _hum_ met her ears just as she slipped beneath the canopy. She knew that sound. She’d been running from it for years.

TIE fighters.

Which meant a Star Destroyer, unless the First Order had recently debuted a new class of TIE capable of long-distance interplanetary travel. Rey ran faster. They’d caught up to her.

They'd come for Rakata Prime.

 

 

The parts shop was a shoddy, rusted structure, half-reclaimed by jungly overgrowth and some ways down the dusty path from the port. It wasn’t far from the temple; that was how she’d found it in the first place, and she still couldn’t shake the feeling that the Force had guided her there. It was too convenient. The Rakata female who owned the shop had laughed in her face when she’d first asked for a job in exchange for board, more when Rey offered to sleep in the service station—but she’d been won over quickly when Rey spent several hours at the broken cooling unit until it finally kicked back up and the parts shop was bearable from the humidity **_._ ** The fact that she was fluent in Rakatan didn’t hurt, and she got the sense the Rakata shopkeeper—Darr, she was called—didn’t mind the company.

Normally Rey would’ve done her best to keep out of Darr’s way but today was different. There were First Order TIEs barreling over the jungle canopy, headed to the port no doubt and Rey had to find a transport offworld as soon as possible. She bolted past her host, who was boiling something that smelled like death on the small stove in the corner of the dwelling and nearly pulled the ramshackle door of her accommodations of its hinges.

The room was small, more of a closet than anything and it took Rey all of two minutes to gather her things and shove them into her knapsack. When she reemerged from the room her host was standing in the glum hall, looking dumbstruck with her cone-shaped forehead wrinkled and her antenna-esque eyes narrowed.

“The First Order,” Rey managed in Rakatan, finally taking a moment to catch her breath. “They’re—they’re here.”

Darr didn’t move.

“ _Tah_ ,” she reiterated. _Death_. “If we stay we’ll die. I’ve seen it before.”

Something unnerving appeared in Darr’s gaze, then. Something carnal that Rey didn’t expect. It sent a chill to her bones, just as another squadron of TIE fighters screamed overhead. Her head followed the noise almost instinctively, turning with the fighters as they soared over the canopy, even while Darr stood still. It kicked Rey back into motion. She didn’t have any more time to waste.

Rey swallowed, tugging her knapsack over her shoulder. “Thank you… for letting me stay. It was very kind.” Those were Rey’s last words to her host. Darr leered at her as she went.

 

 

The path was dark, but Rey knew it well enough. She could see the orange glow of the port up ahead, though she kept to the shadows of the road with quick steps and her hood pulled low. She wasn’t sure how many of them had made planetfall by now; it had to be at least ten or twenty, which was much more than necessary for a routine stop. With each passing fighter, her heart raced louder in both her ears but she forced herself to focus on just getting to the transports.

When Rey reached the market, she slowed her pace and tried to make herself as small as possible. From what she observed there hadn’t been any commotion yet, at least among the Rakata. Rather there was a peculiar standstill that occupied them; they stared up at the sky as fighters roared past, though in fear or awe she wasn’t sure. Other lifeforms seemed at the very least confused, at the most flinching away and running indoors. Only a couple others seemed to have the same idea Rey had, clutching at their belongings and quietly making their way through the dimness, attempting to go unnoticed by the leering Rakata.

The stuttered marching of Stormtroopers in the distance nearly kicked Rey into a sprint, but she held herself back, fighting the bare instinct to escape. She could also make out the buzz of comms and orders being delivered. No blasterfire yet.

Rey moved slowly in the shadow of the towering seawall, which guarded the port from high tides and storm surge. Others weren’t so calm. Around the outpost, the teeth of the Rakata began to bare, and other traders tittered and quickly closed up their shops. Tarps were folded, wares shoved back in their boxes and garage doors rolled shut. There was nearly no light left in the sky now, nighttime air creeping between the shops and serving as the last barrier against the looming threat just beyond the hills.

Rey’s fingers tightened along the threads of her hood, eyes darting from the traders to the edge of the trading outpost, still pacing forward toward the bulky silhouette of transports along the docks, which paralleled the shoreline just a little farther down. One of them lifted off its landing pad, blue engine lights flaring as its nose pointed skyward. It shot off like a rocket and a sonic boom shook the ground, simultaneously raising the hair on the back of Rey’s neck.

The Stormtroopers were closer. TIE fighters still screamed through the starlit sky. She twisted on her heel, kicking up the sand under her boot as she slipped around a corner, under a stone archway in the seawall and out onto the beach. The marina was large, its many docks and landing pads anchored by barnacled pylons whose foundations lay deep in the seafloor. Rey made a break for it, footsteps turning loud as she crossed from the beach onto a gangplank.

One slow breath in and she managed to settle her nerves. Behind her she heard the rumble of commotion in the market, finally picking up. She didn’t turn around, though—her eyes were plastered to the shuttles, several classes of them in front of her, many of them worn from decades of use and some even from the days of the Empire. She spotted a TIE boarding craft, isolated on a small, floating landing pad, halfway withered with disuse, but it would serve as the ideal disguise—

It came before she heard it. Then she heard it before she felt it, and then the ground moved under her feet as explosions rocked the transports behind her. Rey threw a hand up against the resultant blaze, which erupted with a roar and surged with blinding heat. In seconds it’d moved from the docks to the water, where it devoured the fuel leaking from the transport wreckage into the ocean. She only had a few seconds. If the inferno didn’t consume the rotting starcraft, another round of TIE bombardment would. Either she left now or not at all.

She found her feet and started running.

“Out of my way!” came a harsh Rakatan voice, shoving Rey aside when she reached for the shuttle’s loading panel. “I’m going to _slaughter_ them.”

A fine idea, if the First Order weren’t already slaughtering everything that fought back. Fighting against a Rakatan without the Force was asking to be killed herself, however. “You’ll die if you fight back,” she bit out, glancing over her shoulder at the growing blaze. It was encroaching on them. A patrol was coming through to the transports, their marching sending shockwaves through her system with each step. She could see them swarming the bazaar too, flames glinting off their trademark armor. “I’ve seen this before. Your best choice is to escape! Why don’t any of you _believe_ me?”

“If they’re as strong as you say, _coward_ , why won’t you bow to them?” spat the Rakata, engaging the assault shuttle’s lift and jumping to it.

Rey glared at him, trying to keep her voice even. “If Rakata Prime falls, the rest of the Unknown Regions will be next. It’s the only region of the Galaxy they haven’t conquered.”

The Rakata didn’t bother replying to her, instead glowering one last time as the shuttle’s lift began to close. Gritting her teeth, Rey backed away and tugged her hood even farther down her face. The shuttle began to lift from the port, its three-pronged structure markedly standing out against the fire spreading beneath it. Modulated shouting came from behind her, just as the TIE barreled into the air and out of sight.

Stormtroopers had filtered into the marina down at the far end, comms buzzing and armor clinking as they shuffled around the spreading inferno. They opened fire on the transports, lighting the air with the red glow and sharp sound of blaster fire, destroying everything in their paths. She had to get off the docks before they noticed her. Rey’s gaze shifted to the water. She couldn’t swim, and it was too dark to see if the tide had carried the leaking fuel and oil this far down.

Rey cursed under her breath, reprimanding herself a second later for being flustered.

If only she could use the Force—but no, it was too risky. Especially with the First Order here. If he realized where she was, just within the clutches of his military, there was no doubt in Rey’s mind that she would be captured.

Time was running out.

She ducked low and hurried farther down the perimeter of the marina, back towards the beach. It was too late to take a transport now. The Stormtroopers were too close, and she didn’t want to gamble on their blasters putting a hole in her engine before she got off the ground. Back to the market then, before the fire consumed the other half of the marina. She didn’t have any other choice.

Heat from the blaze seared Rey’s cheeks in the already humid air, but she kept her hood low. Another squadron of TIE fighters careened past, close enough that their thrusters sent a ripple of vibrations across the ocean’s surface. Rey flinched from the sound of their engines, then again as they unleashed a round of violent green bombardment on the port city. Buildings crumbled, accompanied by the awful sound of metal grating against stone and above it all, a cacophony of Rakatan screams. Too loud; it was all too loud, and she could hardly think.

She wasn’t sure how she made it back to the beach unscathed, but she welcomed the feel of shifting sand under her boots as she ran, lungs burning, back towards the cover of buildings. From there she’d snake her way back to the jungle, get as far away from the port as possible and find another transport. Some Stormtroopers shouted something from her right, no doubt telling her to stop but she tore past them, paying them no mind. She made a running jump for the seawall, grappling onto the ledge with her hands and then used a combination of feet and arms to haul herself over to the other side.

Rey was barely over the ledge, fingers going white with pressure. That was when she saw them.

Obsidian Upsilon-class wings swept over the port at a low altitude. Frozen, Rey followed the shuttle with her eyes as it banked to the right out over the sea and back over the beach where it stilled to a hover. Then the wings folded upwards, allowing the craft to slowly descend, and all color left Rey’s face, growing as white as her knuckles. The déjà vu was sickening.

 _It’s not him_ , she told herself. Couldn’t be him. The Supreme Leader wouldn’t trouble himself with the frontlines.

A voice in her head told her to flee—that she was wasting time. Yet her feet stayed planted to the ground, despite the shouting in Rakata and blasterfire flooding her senses. The air reeked of iron, blood and smoke.

Despite all that, another voice in her head told her to investigate. _The Force_? It couldn’t be. She’d shut it out. Rey listened anyway, falling into stride along the seawall once more and tepidly making her way towards the shuttle. It’d landed on the beach.

This was an awful idea. Four years she’d run from the First Order, and it should have been the same now. But the need to move closer and _check_ spread in her bones, choking her mind until she could hardly hear the voice telling her to leave; she knew this window of opportunity would vanish if she didn’t take it.

Rey found her vantage point when she came to a hole blown through the seawall. Anvilstone rubble lay scattered about her feet, still smoking from the TIE fire. A lump formed in Rey’s throat and the dreadful tug in her gut grew stronger, demanding that she look up. Shaking, she did.

The shuttle’s loading ramp had been let down. A cluster of Stormtroopers flanked it, underneath those sleek black wings that were now neatly tucked in place. Then a figure clad in black appeared at the top of the ramp and Rey’s stomach lurched—only to unfurl when she realized it wasn’t him. Just some other figure clad head to toe in brutal armor. Then another, and another, some figures she’d perhaps already seen before, halfway in a dream—

—and were those _lightsabers_ clasped to their belts?

Rey’s heart pounded, her head swimming with dizziness. She gripped the fractured seawall with still-white knuckles, afraid she’d faint if she didn’t lean her weight against it. A final figure emerged at the top of the ramp, and Rey’s breath left her lungs to hang in the night air.

She almost didn’t recognize him, but she knew that posture and gait—even if his onyx armor covered him head to toe, a cowl and deep hood covering his head and shoulders. His face was white as a sheet, and even from where she stood she could see the dark circles that hung beneath wild eyes. _That face_. He descended the ramp, dark robes catching in the breeze.

Rey couldn’t move.

It was him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, let us know what you think! :)


	3. Chapter 3

For a long moment the waves were unmoving, the blaze behind her frozen. The beach was entirely silent; time had stopped. That was the only explanation for how her throat closed, how her lungs refused to fill with air. She was paralyzed, only able to look on in utter shock as the Supreme Leader of the First Order descended from his harbinger of death. Then he took his first steps onto the beach and the planet seemed to shift beneath her, leaving Rey in limbo between holding her ground and fleeing as she struggled to keep upright. She couldn’t think.

Her head, which seemed filled with water, began to clear when Delta shuttles hummed above the beach to bring added reinforcements. She scrambled and drew blood on her hand after rushing to push back over the ledge where she could hide. Never, _never_ was she more relieved to have closed herself off from the Force than she was in this moment. It had taken great effort when she’d painstakingly drawn herself from the wisps of Force winding through her body—like unweaving an intricate tapestry, thread by thread—but once it was done, she could only feel… herself.

Except that was then and this was _now,_ and his presence so near hers brought a plaguing headache behind her eyes. The thudding need to reconnect to the Force thundered through her bones like a war drum. It was agonizing and exhausting, keeping herself apart. But it was necessary for her to survive.

The raw skin of her palms stung under her fingertips as Rey drew her hands into fists. Hood drawn low over her eyes, she quickly ran through her options. Rush back to Darr deeper within the jungle to scrounge up a plan, or stay here and try to take a transport while they were still untracked. The second option stung with danger, especially given the squadrons of TIEs circling in holding patterns over the port. The entire First Order was above Rakata Prime and it was _very_ probable they were already monitoring everything entering or leaving the planet.

She had to remain unseen. The jungle was her best bet, if she could get there.

There was enough chaos around her that it drowned out her movements, enough traders and merchants shuffling into the buildings or making a last stand that nobody noticed a small, dark shape moving through the shadows of the ransacked outpost. In the mayhem she caught sight of the merchants who couldn’t fight, who needed to lay low. As much as Rey detested it she had to follow their lead. Her feet moved before she could process where to go next, and the next moment she slipped under a lantern by the door of a machinist’s shop, following another trader just as he disappeared through the threshold. She slid through the opening right after him just as the first ranks of Stormtroopers marched by—

“Don’t just stand there! Over here!” hissed a voice through gritted teeth a ways into the darkness of the shop. Startled, Rey found a trader huddling under the workbench, face barely lit by an old, cracked datapad, easy to miss until her vision had adjusted to the lack of light. The trader wasn’t Ratakan—she was too small. Judging by her quick movements under the bench—stars knew what was under there—the trader was very obviously the machinist who ran the shop. The other merchant who’d come in before Rey hesitated by the door, but it was either stay here or take one’s chances with the Stormtroopers. “Take one of these,” the trader under the bench told Rey as she approached, glancing her way and waving something in the dark. Floorboards creaked as the other trader moved closer.

“Lotta smoke and debris flying around. Don’t wanna get hit with a blaster bolt either,” continued the machinist. “They’re not much, but they’re better than nothing.” She pulled a mask from the bottom of the bench and held it out to her. It looked ghoulish in the dimness, with circular droid-like eyes and cut from some heavy, tarnished metal. Probably heat resistant; useful for working with machinery.

Rey’s first instinct was to shove the mask away. She didn’t need one—she’d been doing _just fine_ without one, and she was already having a hard time keeping steady breath. But she _was_ in hiding, and without the Force, she couldn’t do much other than make herself small and indiscernible until she could find a way off this planet. Or the next. Until she had the means to rebuild, all she could do was tuck herself into hidden corners of each system, and that was vital now more than ever. She was the last one left.

Rey reached out and accepted the disguise with a grateful tilt of her lips. The mask proffered to her was old and worn, unused for either a couple years or maybe a lifetime. “Nothing else back there, I suppose,” she said, and the woman offered a crooked smile in response. She slipped it on, her nose wrinkling at the smell of it as she drew her hood back over her face. “This thing is rank.” To her surprise, the voice that came out was slightly modified—artificial. Rey hadn’t noticed the modulator.

The lights from the marching ‘Troopers outside flashed through the shop and the trader under the workbench flinched as she put on her own mask, then offered another one to the man Rey had followed in. His was broken enough to show a cheek and one eye, whereas the machinist’s only covered the top half of her face. There were grease marks smeared all over her chin, typical of someone who worked with oil and lubricating parts for repair. Rey noted a pack of death sticks sitting in the front pocket of her coveralls.

“What’s your name?” she asked, meeting Rey’s stare.

Rey bit her lip behind the disguise.

“No names. No anything,” said the male merchant, strapping on his own mask, finally speaking. Rey had seen him around a couple times in the midst of the bustle in the past few weeks and was fairly certain he worked the evenings servicing droids. “You’ve heard the stories—about the Supreme Leader. He can see into people’s minds; he can hear their _thoughts_!”

The machinist laughed. “If you think the Supreme Leader’s gonna trouble himself with any of us, you sure woke up with an inflated sense of self. He’s got a whole military to do his bidding.”

Rey was hardly listening. In all the rush, in all the spectacle of actually _seeing_ the Supreme Leader of the First Order, the one man she’d been trying to avoid for years on end, Rey had nearly forgotten about that fact—and now her mind was spinning, trying to recall every time she’d shown her face or made herself a little too _known_. She always knew that was a liability, that he could see into other people’s minds and pry into their memories. It was part of why she spent little time in each system. She’d lived in solitude, searched the temples she managed to track down and she’d largely stayed away from civilization unless she’d desperately needed materials or credits. It ensured that no lifeforms made any substantial connections with her, that there was no need for them to remember her face… and that if _he_ ever got into their minds by some terrible stroke of bad luck, her identity would be safe, and she’d still be dead to the Galaxy. Dead to _him_. For the most part she'd managed fine, but some nagging feeling in her gut told her she’d let herself get a little too comfortable here. She’d spent more time here than anywhere else, and lived in close quarters with another. She’d almost made a _home_ of it.

“Anyway, best not to make him think there’s anything worth looking for, then,” said the machinist, swiping through the datapad in her hands. Her voice pulled Rey from her thoughts. “Just do what they tell us and we’ll all be alright.”

“The Rakata, though,” Rey managed despite the tremor in the back of her throat. “They’ll be dead by sunrise.”

“I dunno about that,” the machinist replied. “What’s the phrase? ‘If you can’t fight them, join them’. I’m sure the Rakata know that better than anyone. Self-interested lot. They get off on the dark side.”

“So what—so they’ll just duck their heads and follow as the First Order flag flies over their home?”

The woman shrugged, perhaps out of hopelessness, perhaps because the ‘Troopers outside were spilling into the port in waves and she'd figured it best to stay quiet. The other merchant, the droid servicer, fiddled with his own failing modulator and said, “It’s not a problem if you don’t look up.”

  
  


Rey didn’t know how long they sat there in complete darkness once the traders had shut off the dying datapad. The sounds outside never seemed to reach those of a full-scale battle. It didn’t seem to _have_ to, as each passing battalion of Stormtroopers razed anyone who dared object. A comm buzzed outside the shop: orders being radioed from some higher-ranking troop. Rey shuddered when a Stormtrooper replied, giving what sounded like some sort of affirmation. He was _right there_ on the other side of the door. All he had to do was come inside and—

She took a look at the two other merchants huddled with her under the workbench. Despite the no names rule they'd agreed upon, she’d taken to referring to the machinist as “Smear” and the other man as “Droid”.

As quietly as she could, she breathed, “Do either of you have transports?”

Both of them looked at each other. Finally, the machinist—Smear—nodded. “Access codes are in the datapad. It’s parked out back. There’s no use taking it, though. Our best bet is to just work with the First Order until some opportunity to leave shows up. If we make a break for it, they’ll shoot us outta the sky in seconds.”

A rapping sounded just outside the door of the machinist’s shop, light, quick and very quiet. The traders jumped and Rey’s head swiveled toward the door.

“‘Troopers?” asked Smear.

“No. They’d blast the door in,” said Rey. “But…”

There was a voice outside. No—two. Both modulated.

“Search for lifeforms,” came one of them from just outside the door. The voice was frigid and calculating. The beat of silence following it seemed to last forever; Rey had a strong feeling they were somehow scanning the inside of the shop.

“Lifeforms present.” The second, lower pitched voice broke the silence.

“Get them out, then. He wants them all out on the streets.”

Rey’s heart nearly stopped.

“Shit,” Smear whispered.

Rey’s mind reeled for escape routes. Another door? A window? She didn’t see either. Her head ran quickly through all of their options, but it was Smear’s words that came to mind: _Our best bet is to just work with the First Order_. The ‘Troopers were just doing their job, much like Finn had. From the sound of it they didn’t have kill orders yet—or at least she hoped not. And if they did, there was nothing to be done about it. They’d just have to comply. “Get up,” Rey told them, grateful her voice was steady. “And be prepared for whatever we might have to do.” _Might_ , she repeated to herself.

They scrambled to their feet along with her and Smear dove for a fusion lantern on the surface of the bench. Within seconds, the dim light from the lantern spread through the shop. Then the door clicked open, and Rey’s skin crawled with a tingling, instinctual knowledge that it’d been opened with the Force. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the night outside, but when they did she knew she’d been right. The figures at the threshold were two of the ones Rey had seen on the shuttle earlier—robed similarly to their Supreme Leader, with lightsabers clasped to their belts. Two of the Knights of Ren.

“Oho. It's dark in here,” rasped the shorter one dryly, leaning on a giant broadsword wedged into the floorboards.

“Cuff them and bring them out,” said the taller one in a curt tone. “And leave any weapons they’re carrying behind.”

Rey eyed their lightsabers warily, feeling suddenly naked without hers.

“There’s three of them,” continued the tall one, who Rey had to guess was a woman.

“Where are you taking us?” The words came out before Rey could stop herself. The shorter one guffawed, but his taller companion shot him a look and he shut up. She sensed Droid and Smear’s eyes on her back.

“You don’t need to know where,” said the woman icily. She turned away, helmet gleaming under the yellow light of the lantern above the threshold. “Mahad. Let’s _go._ ”

“Sure,” said the shorter man, Mahad, and Rey and the other two traders were suddenly constricted by thin air. The Force. This must have been what ‘cuff’ meant, and it was eerily similar to being frozen in place.

 

It had been bloody tedious getting the local Rakata leaders to step down.

Hux’s eyes slotted at the dimly lit outpost, a barely restrained smirk tugging at his mouth. It had been _tedious,_ yes, but worthwhile. The Rakata were intelligent lifeforms—intelligent _enough_ , rather. They understood when they were outmatched and knew what they had to do to survive. What good would it have done them to fight uselessly against the First Order, dying in vain as their homeworld was conquered and pillaged for spoils? Hux’s lips curled back at the thought. No, this would be a grand compromise for both the First Order and the Rakata.

Besides, the best slaves came willingly.

There was a throng of beings a ways in front of them, a larger group than Hux had expected. The Rakata were in the center, now bowed in submission. It had been difficult for them to comprehend what they had to do for their continued survival at first—they hadn’t been anticipating an invasion, it seemed—but the Rakata were reverrent of power and might if nothing else, and they’d quickly sworn their allegiance to the Supreme Leader. There were other lifeforms, too, lining the sides and the back of the group, spanning until the very edge of the outpost where they blended into the shadows of the jungle. As with any futile resistance, much of the empty space on the dirt was littered with the corpses of those who'd foolishly tried to fight or flee. The Stormtroopers were looking slightly worse for the wear as well, but due to the quick submission of the Rakata, there were no severe casualties or loss of any major squadron. Swathes of ‘Troopers stood armed with blasters aimed at the crowd; the trading post was closed off in all corners so there would be no chance of escape.

Standing feet away from him was his “Supreme Leader”, tattered cape dragging along the titanium of the lift from his shuttle, hair limp against sallow cheeks. Ren. Hux’s lips downturned. Technically speaking, all of this was Ren’s army, under his malinformed command and his unworthy orders. _Rakata Prime_ , he'd commanded. Hux’s upper lip began to curl in distaste as he recalled it. He knew this planet well, understood how to throw the Rakata way of life against the species themselves. Yet (and it wasn't only Hux who knew this, but likely every ranking officer in the First Order) _Ren’s_ petty attention was on the temple. As if it wasn't! Hux scoffed; Ren was besotted with whatever damned temple he could hack at, like a child kicking castles of sand to the ground and crying about his tantrum-induced legacy. It didn't matter whatever Ren did with the sand. The tide would come in and wash it all away—Hux had faith in that. Nothing Ren did would matter in the grand scheme of things, and so long as Ren was satisfied playing his part as child on a pretend throne, Hux would eagerly await the day the tide would come, pulling Ren away to drown.

“General.”

Hux, broken out of his reverie, pressed his lips together and glanced toward Ren, who was still staring across the marina and hadn’t bothered to even look in Hux’s direction. The disrespect was abominable. “Supreme Leader,” Hux acknowledged. His mouth filled with a bitter taste at the utterance.

“My Knights are returning,” said Ren, pausing to glance over the ransacked port. “With the last of the stragglers hiding out in the outpost. You will keep them here while I take my Knights to the Temple of the Ancients.”

Ren wouldn’t even address the people he was attempting to conquer—that was how single-minded he was. It took everything Hux had to keep himself from sneering. Ren’s lack of tact when it came to ruling the Galaxy would be his undoing, and it was all the better for Hux. Even now, when it was obvious to everyone with eyes that the two of them held no trust for one another, Ren was leaving the diplomatic matters in someone else’s hands when he should have been taking care of it himself.

Naturally, it would all work out. That had been Hux’s position on the matter for the greater part of four years as he’d watched Ren unhinge further and further.

When Hux failed to reply, Ren turned toward him, brows rising.

“And what shall I tell the Rakata during your absence?” Hux offered cordially, halfway hoping Ren would rise to the bait.

“Spin up a tale like you normally do,” Ren replied.

Teeth gritting together, Hux took two quick, large steps forward and felt his own fists clench despite himself. “This isn’t a game,” Hux scorned, only a foot or two away from Ren’s ridiculous face. It was a struggle to keep his voice even. “How many times do I have to tell you, _Ren_ , that no proper leader shows up to a system just to—”

“Ah,” said Ren, looking over Hux’s shoulder with recognition even though his eyes were just as dead and unresponsive as before. “Sobu, Lokka. Where are the others?”

Hux swiveled around and saw the two Knights he’d barely heard approach behind them. Nasty, ghoulish beings. The tall, spindly form of Sobu Ren was always bowed in respect to the Supreme Leader, while the much younger Lokka Ren was jittery with violent excitement per usual, like a coil ready to spring. They were arguably the two most loyal, or the two most insane. Briefly, Hux wondered which of them would die this time, even with the other two who were still alive—Yuzha Ren and Mahad Ren. Who had died so far? Volta Ren had been the most recent, back on Lothal. Prior to him was Sidjae Ren, perhaps a year or two ago.

But that thought dissipated as soon as it appeared. Like always, Ren paid no attention to anything that left Hux’s mouth.

“Hello, General Hux,” Lokka Ren said, as though she and Sobu Ren hadn’t just interrupted Hux’s very important discussion with Ren himself. Hux opened his mouth to order them away, even if it would be in vain, but she stared straight past him and continued, “Master, Yuzha and Mahad are coming back with some leftovers! But if it were up to me I say we go there first and get started. You know, to get the ball rolling.”

“No, we’ll wait, Lokka,” said Sobu Ren, still ignoring Hux, who wanted nothing more for them to just shut up or be on their damn way, already. “Master wants all of us to go together. Right, Master?”

They acted like children, every single one of them, and Hux hated it. “Enough! Just go already!” spat Hux, turning back around to face the marina and grateful that they were an inaudible distance from the crowd waiting in the main outpost. How _humiliating_! “I’ll ‘spin up a tale’, Supreme Leader. Take your Knights and be on with it!”

Without listening to a second more of it, he stormed away, wishing the fact that he’d gotten the last word would stamp out the burning, deep-seated hatred in his gut for the Supreme Leader and his little pets. He would need to be more mindful of his temper.

  


Yuzha and Mahad joined the three of them on the ramp of his shuttle with no stragglers in tow, having already deposited them in the swarm with the other non-Rakata lifeforms, and as usual, there was nothing to report. Mahad did like to give anecdotes, and he complained about the last three they’d taken from a shop further back and closer to the outskirts of the post. “They were wearing dingy masks and sitting in the dark,” he told Lokka.

She giggled and said, “Just like Sobu when Master says he did something bad!”

Sobu said nothing, but the air shifted around them like it always did when Sobu’s mood took a violent turn. Kylo turned his attention back over the water, which glittered under the stars that spanned the Rakatan sky. Already he could feel the power from the Temple of the Ancients lighting his nerves with a dull need.

Such was Kylo’s focus now that they’d all been gathered back together and were ready to head to the temple: push through until they obliterated every semblance of the Jedi or Sith on Rakata Prime and every other planet until the galaxy was a blank canvas for him to start anew. Things would be right then… they had to be.

He paused on the ramp to look over the crowd of lifeforms the ‘Troopers had gathered along the shore. Hux’s words rang in his ears, much as he’d tried to ignore them. “Follow me,” he told his Knights, taking one move in retreat back down the ramp, then two, three, and on and on until he realized he was counting his steps in his anticipation. As he did so, his Knights drew behind him in two rows, Yuzha and Sobu falling into step directly behind him and Mahad and Lokka making up the rear.

Soon enough Kylo was directly in front of the creatures he'd subjugated and he paused, surveying the individuals ahead of him. Some stared him straight in the eye, others looked down and about, some wore masks that kept Kylo from knowing anything at all—but none of it mattered to him. As if testing the waters, he took another deliberate step forward and crowd parted in two as though he'd forced them apart.

Silently, he crossed through the group, each face blending into the next. Over his shoulder his Knights kept their hands on their secondary weapons, more for show than for defense. They had the Stormtroopers in case the situation went downhill.

But these merchants, Kylo noted the more they moved into the dregs of the outpost and the crowd that occupied it—they were _smart_ at least about their own lives. Most of the galaxy he'd conquered had been, it seemed. It was a simple concept; joining him meant their lives would be spared.

Joining him.

Join…

 _If only she had, then maybe she'd still be here,_ said a horrible voice in his head that was five times louder than normal and ten times as vile. “Let's go,” he spat, not caring about the crowd any longer. He knew the Knights sensed the quick shift in his demeanor. Directly behind him, Sobu made a noise low in his throat, more affected than the others by the change, but he was always the most sensitive.

Kylo’s pace grew increasingly rapid and they neared the end of the worn rabble, heading to the dense overgrowth that surrounded the outpost. There were no Rakata at this place now. Just other merchants, none of whom were worth his time—

“Hey,” said Mahad, “where'd the third one go? We left three of them here, Yuzha.”

Kylo cursed his luck. If anyone was unaccounted for, it meant someone had either died or escaped. The latter was unacceptable, even if he desperately wanted to ignore it right now. “What do you _mean_ 'where’d the third one go’?”

Neither Yuzha nor Mahad, the two who had been in charge of this region of the post, said anything. Instead, Yuzha lifted a steady arm and extended her fingers as all five of them reached the end of the horde, and in the dead silence of the hundreds of merchants surrounding them, two forms were dragged to the dirt on their knees before Kylo’s boots.

Both wore masks. One of them was broken, baring the eye of a human male trader. To the man’s right, the other figure’s face was obscured entirely, their mask intact under their hood but heavily at risk of splitting with one strike.

Kylo stepped forward, inclining his head to the side. Yuzha kept them cuffed and demanded from behind Kylo, “Where is the other?”

“We don't know,” the man wheezed, his voice fading in and out through the faulty modulator under his mask. He was very visibly trembling. “S-she was with us a second ago, Lord.”

“Master,” Sobu began, but Kylo paid him no mind whatsoever. Yuzha dropped her arm and Kylo froze them in place with a flick of his finger. Then, with one hand curling into a familiar arc against the man’s temple, he said, “No matter. Let's find out where she is….”

After only several seconds of searching, he found a memory of the two in front of him and a third figure encountering Yuzha and Mahad in very dimly lit workshop close to this end of the outpost. The last mask, worn by the missing member revealed the lips and chin of a woman accented with grease stains from working in the machine shop, working on a flickering datapad. There was nothing remarkable about this third person, no reason for them to have simply vanished from the crowd that he could see.

_Going back to get the datapad. Can’t access the transport without it._

The thought, a woman’s voice, slipped into Kylo’s mind seamlessly as though he’d merely tugged on a string and pulled it from the man’s head. So she was attempting to run, then. Waiting for her opportunity. Kylo pulled his hand away from the man in front of him and let it fall to his side. The other masked figure said nothing, perhaps waiting for Kylo to delve into their mind, as well—but he already had what he needed.

He turned to the crowd, searched for the same woman he'd felt in the man's memories. There she was, further into the horde he’d already passed and messing with some sort of device in her hands. Ah, the datapad. He turned and stood, stalking towards the woman’s Force signature until he spotted her. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he snapped her neck. The machinist collapsed to the dry dirt under her feet. There was a dull thud, a couple of gasps, dozens of flinches and wide eyes, and then it was quiet once more.

 

Rey couldn't breathe.

All she could do was stay silent, praying he wouldn't search her mind next. He was so close, _so close_ , and his arm had stretched forward and cupped into exactly the shape she feared… against Droid’s temple beside her. And though she could have very well looked away, her eyes decided otherwise.

It was impossible _not_ to look at him—at what he’d become. He’d never looked particularly healthy but now he looked outright ill. His skin was pallid and gaunt, cheeks sunken in and jawline sharp as if it’d been weeks since he’d actually had anything to eat. His eyes—those dark, fiery eyes, burning like pits of coal she’d admittedly once thought beautiful—were dull and empty, all heat and purpose gone from them. His brows were drawn, wan lips pursed and his hair was matted and lank from what she could see of it under that embroidered hood. His power had eaten him alive.

Then he'd slowly twisted around, fingers tasting the air for Smear. Rey knew he'd seen her in Droid’s mind. It took only seconds before his eyes or senses locked onto someone she couldn't see and he stood, taking a few steps towards the crowd. Then his gloved fingers unfurled in a swift, solid motion.

The crowd had gone silent enough to hear the _crack_ of Smear’s neck _._

Rey’s eyes squeezed shut. At her side, Droid inhaled sharply in blank terror. The heavy sound of Smear dropping to the ground echoed between her ears with finality.

When she opened her eyes, the emperor was staring at them again. “You chose wisely,” he said, and Rey struggled not to flinch at the sound of his voice. As much as his appearance had changed, his voice had stayed the same: soft and low, and deceivingly gentle. “Those who resist will die.”

“Long live the Supreme Leader,” one of the Knights piped from behind him, loud and clear. Her voice jolted the crowd.

A pulse of silence.

“Long live the Supreme Leader,” Droid parroted in a teetering voice at her left.

In front of them, the Supreme Leader’s eyes lingered on Droid, unreadable. Then (and Rey’s parched throat constricted with a barely concealed prayer), his look snapped to her, waiting. She opened her mouth even though she knew she couldn’t say it; her limbs were weak, her mind searing with pain as the need to reopen herself to the Force intensified a hundredfold. The barest of frowns creased in between his brows as he loomed above her. All at once, the shock overpowered her terror, and her tongue began to form a curse behind her teeth.

It must have all happened in a split second; the crowd answered for her, and Rey found her dissent swallowed by the others surrounding them, hundreds of voices repeating those five words. The moment passed. She tore her eyes away, bowing her mask to the ground.

In an instant she was released and blood rushed back into her limbs. Droid breathed an audible sigh of relief beside her. In a daze, Rey caught sight of large black boots sidestepping her gloved fingers, one by one, until all she could see was his tattered cloak trailing along the dirt as he broke through the line of ‘Troopers guarding the edge of the jungle. Her head finally seemed to clear and she could think again, but all she could do was watch as Kylo Ren and his Knights walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone for being patient with us! as always, thanks for reviewing and it'd be great to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys, the reception to the last chapter (and honestly in general to the whole fic) has been just... incredible. we seriously CANNOT be more grateful for everyone's support and excitement over this story!! thanks to everyone who comments, we read each and every one of them and gush to each other about how excited they make us. it's always such a delight to know that people are waiting for updates, and it makes _us_ excited to put them out for you!! we've gotten several asks on our blogs with some comments, too (which we do respond to regularly on there, so if you have any questions you can definitely hit us up). at any rate, enjoy!

The sun was barely a sliver on the horizon, its dying rays outstretched like the arms of a lingering embrace. When they faded, the day’s warmth went with them though the blood-red hue of the sky would remain for another hour until it dissipated, replaced by the glitter and glow of a billion city lights. This sunset marked three years on Coruscant, and Finn’s wounds were still nearly as raw as they’d been the day they arrived.

He felt their absence every day— _all_ of theirs, but especially Rey’s.

 _That’s the way life is. You have to move on_ , Rose would tell him, and he wanted to believe her… but he couldn’t. Not yet. It wasn’t  _fair_ ; it wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

They’d been so close to succeeding.

Nowadays he wondered if the Force was even real, or if instead what he’d seen had been only the manifestations of some advanced, quantum-mechanical technology meant to scare the galaxy’s citizens into submission. It seemed ridiculous to believe in something that had failed to do what legends whispered it would do when everything else seemed to go wrong. The idea that there was some ethereal, intangible power binding and guiding them had seemed hokey at first, but for better or worse he’d let himself believe it. It’d been hard not to. That day in Niima Outpost had felt an awful lot like fate.

Now he couldn’t be sure. This didn’t feel like fate. This felt like the machinations of a soulless and unsympathetic universe, one that was oblivious to things like justice or victory or right versus wrong. The thought sent a chill down his spine, which spread to the ends of his fingers and seeped into his bones. These were the things that kept him up at night.

At least he still had Rose.

He’d been lucky to meet her at all. Lucky, fateful, destined—whatever you wanted to call it. Finn didn’t know if he would’ve made it this far alone.

He stepped back from the viewport of their loft, high above the streets of a once-thriving capital that now lay in ruin and decay. The urban planet hadn’t been the galactic capital in decades, but it’d still been one of their first targets. They’d gone after all the core worlds first. That, and there’d been a Jedi temple here. Finn could still make out the silhouette of the megalith on the horizon, its once towering spires and walls now crumbling if still standing at all.

Most of the planet looked like that—ravaged by wars both recent and long-gone. Even now there were toppled statues of the dead emperor lying in the streets, a man whose face hadn’t been seen in thirty-four years but whose legacy of terror and destruction lived on. It lived on in the Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren, and more than anything else Finn hated that that monster had survived in Rey’s place. Finn’s heart thudded against his ribcage, his fingers curling against his palms.

The sound of a blast door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Finn turned to see Rose standing in the doorway and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. She was always so timely.

A service droid Rose had put together buzzed in after her, carrying a crate of groceries and setting it down by the conservator for them to put away. Rose shut the droid off and heaved a bag from the crate up onto their kitchen table. Finn rushed over to help her put the foodstuff away and grabbed the bag from Rose’s hand.

“Thanks,” said Rose, out of breath from dragging her own sack from work. She bent down to grab another satchel. “You have  _no_  idea how hard it was to find blue milk that hadn’t gone bad. And we’re running out of credits on Paige’s account, by the way. We’ve got clients coming in who’ll make it last for another few months, but… we should really look around some more. Food is getting a bit expensive.”

“How hard would it be to get work at that tapcafe?” Finn said dryly. When Rose’s head popped up from the crate, exasperated, he added, “That place gets a lot of attention, Rose.”

“ _You_ ,” Rose said through opening a carton of blue milk, “can work there.” She moved back from the table and sighed, deep in thought. Finn stepped closer to the crate of groceries and searched through it, mentally running through what they’d run out of and what they’d restocked on.

He felt his brows furrow. “Rose, did you get butter?”

“No butter,” said Rose, her voice distant. She was still thinking hard about something; her arms were folded across her chest and her lower lip was sticking out ever so slightly like Finn knew she did when she was working on the logistics of a new plan.

At once her eyes lit up and the words came out in a rush. “No butter—all the Westhills butter from Lothal’s gone bad—Finn, I know  _exactly_  where you can work! It’ll be perfect. No one will find you and we can keep an eye on the First Order, just in case an opportunity pops up”—she took a breath here and started to pace, her words dropping lower as though she were talking more to herself—“and it would be in CoCo Town, so it wouldn’t be too far from here, and he could take one of the working civilian transports—there’d be enough room on it, I’ve been on them a couple times.”

“Rose,” Finn said slowly. “You’re thinking about those kids in CoCo Town. Right?”

“I’m always thinking about them,” she countered. “But it’s more than that, Finn! I work in the middle of all the parts the First Order uses for their ships, and I know where they send everything. Half the time I manage the logs and send them in myself!”

“You’d be able to direct where they go.” The plan was clicking together in Finn’s head. “Yes! We can try to slip a few things here and there. And we can set up a trade shop—”

“—a trade shop,  _exactly_!” Rose was on the same page, as always.

“—but we’d have to be careful where we send the parts,” said Finn. Rose nodded fervently, eyes still bright with her plan as Finn caught on.

She grabbed a glass from under the table and filled it up with blue milk, talking fast. “I’d log everything into the usual spots, of course. Some First Order officers like to come into CoCo Town for a night off, since it’s far from the heavier districts and, well, sleazier. But if I send certain parts we need to  _them,_  we can set up shop and have them trade in  _those parts_ so we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” Bringing the glass of blue milk up to her lips, she took a long sip and then wiped her mouth with her sleeve, grinning.

It wasn’t the first fully realized plan they’d had in a while that would aid in putting a semblance of the Resistance back together, but it was the most capable. Now that Rose had worked the same job on Coruscant with several other engineers of her calibre and gained the trust of the First Order officers who demanded their repair services, she had the means necessary to pull this off—and Finn himself had the bitter charisma, scarred from when the Resistance was desecrated on Crait, to build the group that would emerge from all of it. The plan would be underground, heavily hidden, and hopefully helped by the handful of people he and Rose had worked in gathering over the past couple years to act as ears against the enormous First Order.

“It could work, Rose,” he said. Rose beamed at him. “It really could. We’d have to be careful, but… we can do it.”

“We  _can_  do it,” she breathed, as excited as ever. Then she swallowed her smile back and looked down toward the floor of their loft. “Blast it. I wish they were here to hear us.”

“So do I, Rose,” Finn agreed. His memories cycled through his mind one by one. Rey, Poe, General Organa, even Skywalker and everyone else who had been there until the end.

Then the acrid realization came whispering vehemently in his ears, telling him that all their efforts would be in vain if they didn’t pull this off. Force or no Force, they had to get back on their feet one way or another to slam the First Order down.

Finn took the glass of blue milk from Rose’s hand and gripped her by her upper arms, looked at her very seriously, and told her, “We’re going to beat the bantha shit out of all of them, Rose.”

“You sound like Poe,” Rose said, eyes slightly red-rimmed and cheeks only a touch wet, before she laughed and nodded.

 

“Well?” Kylo snapped.

Dawn had started to break over the sea and surrounding archipelago; they’d already wasted too much time, and it was making Kylo wired with anticipation. They were  _so close_ to getting into the temple and like every other one he’d destroyed, he could feel the Force thrumming beneath his feet.

It’d taken them all night to subdue the Rakatan port city and then cut their way through the jungle to the Temple of the Ancients. If it weren’t for the General and his incessant need to challenge orders they could’ve found the temple hours ago. The bone-white structure itself was about twenty meters tall, eroded by sea salt and positioned at the edge of a cliffside that overlooked a bay. A giant moon pockmarked by craters hung above wisps of clouds, fading with the twilight as the golden light of morning blended into the sky. Dew glimmered on the grass. It was all ready to come crashing down.

“We can’t get any closer, Master,” Sobu said in that whiny, nasally voice of his. “There’s something here.”

Kylo had to shut his eyes for a whole second to take a deep breath. After coming to Rakata Prime, prepared to raze half of the trading outpost down in subjugation, and trudging through a thick and humid jungle to locate one of the most salient temples in the history of the galaxy… “something” was blocking their way, according to Sobu.

None of it  _mattered_ if they couldn’t get into the damned thing!

“‘Something’?” Kylo parroted, voice laced with impatience. He took a few steps up the stone ramp to where his Knights stood outside the temple door.

“He means a force field,” said Yuzha. She turned to glance at Kylo, waiting for his next instruction. Beside her, Mahad cricked his neck and drew his broadsword from where he’d set the blade into the wet ground. He angled it towards the temple door, but he was met with invisible resistance that rippled just along the edge of the blade. Mahad tried to push it forward through the barrier, cords of muscle in his arm bulging with effort from where he’d taken off his woven overcoat because of the heat, but the broadsword didn’t move.

Kylo closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, allowing himself to poke and prod at the invisible wall before them with tendrils of dark energy. The Force rippled and bent in response, but it held steadfast. He felt his impatience wane slightly. “Interesting,” he said, more to himself than any of his Knights, and it  _was_. He had never seen anything like it, nor had he heard of such a thing in his studies. Shields were nothing new of course—even the most rudimentary of TIE fighters possessed them—but never before had he encountered a shield composed of the Force, its owner nowhere to be seen. If he wasn’t mistaken it surrounded the entire temple.

Someone had put it here. Someone who had something to hide. Power rose to Kylo’s fingertips in response and he threw his right hand and left foot forward simultaneously, bracing himself as he bludgeoned the shield with energy of his own. A split second later Kylo skidded backwards in the dirt, nearly knocked off his feet by the deflection of power. It did nothing to the shield other than cause a few sparks of heat and friction to rain down his Knights, one of them burning a small hole through Mahad’s cape.

“Let me try,” Lokka breathed, drunk on the promise of destruction. She bounced back and forth between the balls of her feet, buzzing with energy like she was ready to explode. Kylo stepped back and dipped his head, and she did. The Knight drew her arm backward like a catapult, then hurled a barrage of Force power at the shield with a gasp. The air in front of them shuddered and snapped but didn’t break. Everyone except Lokka flinched; she’d already drawn her lightsaber and was spinning it in a criss-crossing motion with one hand. Then she gave a yell and plunged it into the force field with all the strength her small, spritely body could muster.

It backfired. The shield flung her backwards through the air as she shrieked, her legs tumbling over her head before she landed on the grass and rolled several times. She cursed, loudly. Her lightsaber lay collapsed several feet away, and yet the shield remained completely intact.

Kylo turned back to the shield. “We’re missing something,” he said as he sized the temple up. If brute force wasn’t working, there had to be another way of gaining entry to the temple.

“Let me try again, Master,” heaved Lokka from behind him, already back on her feet.

“No.”

Lokka’s temper was rising, Kylo knew that, but his tone was final, and for good reason. She was like a mad dog who went wild if her leash was let out too far. Sobu said something to her under his breath and she seemed to calm slightly, but only just.

“Rakata Prime hasn’t held galactic importance in millennia. There’s probably nothing inside.” Mahad was nonchalant, leaning on his broadsword like always, but Kylo heard the words he didn’t say:  _let’s give up and move on_. His fists clenched in response.

Perhaps Yuzha noticed, because she stared long and hard at Mahad, who seemed to realize his mistake; even without speaking, Yuzha's scolding was apparent. Kylo could always rely on her. Unlike with Sobu and Lokka, he doubted her loyalty was blind or unconditional, but she was the most sensible to each circumstance, and she was perceptive enough to Kylo’s plans.

Regardless, they could stand around waiting for the shield to drop all day. Kylo exhaled heavily through his nose and turned around to face the clearing. They were on a planet with a species that had lived with this temple for millennia. Surely  _someone_  had the answer he needed.

“The villagers,” Kylo said after a moment of thought. “We’ll return to the port. Someone will talk.”

Yuzha nodded. Mahad hesitated and deflated, but slung his broadsword over his shoulder and started down the ramp with his heavy gait. Sobu and Lokka took up the rear, disappointment emanating from both of them. As they began their trek back through the jungle to the port, Kylo hoped that Hux had made some progress since they’d left; if he’d managed to organize the Rakata at all, finding an answer wouldn’t be difficult. Kylo had long since learned not to have faith in the general, though. He’d probably have to find the answer for himself. Hopefully it would be an easy task and he could be on his way back to the temple, to where the Force was heavy in the air and under his feet.

 

That weasel of a man called General Hux had organized all of them by trade. He looked very sour about having to do it, as if he were above barking orders to stragglers who didn’t quite understand where they were being directed and he wasn’t used to dealing with that lack of training and obedience. They’d been put together in rows of mostly skilled labor, and she and Droid had been separated from nearly the get-go. There were hardly any children, given the trade port wasn’t the sort of place one settled to raise a family; Rey did her best to make herself appear tall and broad, sucking in air so she’d come across as an adult rather than have her place in the crowd questioned.

If she could get through all of the menial bookkeeping the damn First Order was doing, she’d be able to stop risking having her identity revealed. But at every turn something seemed to test her. Now, as she was waiting, they were being logged into citizen databanks, and she hoped desperately they wouldn’t need to see her face. She couldn’t afford to be singled out, let alone lose her mask. If  _anyone_  saw her face, and especially _him_ —

Rey didn’t have time to let the thought settle. Her stomach dropped as a figure who she’d quickly become reacquainted with in the past several hours appeared up ahead where the general had set up a registry tent to record everyone’s name and occupation. From where she stood, Kylo Ren—the Supreme Leader, she reminded herself, but it becoming difficult to stay formal when she’d seen his face up close for the first time in years—was little more than a shadow, but even now she recognized him in an instant. He was easily discernible from the other dark, armored shapes that appeared at his side a moment later because his pale, gaunt face was exposed in the midst of the others’ helmets.  _That face_ , still bisected by the scar she’d left so many years ago.

She tore her eyes away, her heart plummeting despite herself, and her head began to ache as the pull back to the Force (and, inevitably, the bond) began to tug on her already weary mind. The line didn’t wait for her to put herself back together, though. It shuffled along and she trudged along with it, gritting her teeth at her helplessness. All she could do was fall in line lest she stand out or make a scene—which would be suicide, or worse.

“Name and residence?” The voice of one of Hux’s commanding officers carried over the crowd.

Despite the humidity that was rising with the break of day, Rey’s blood ran cold. Sweat had started to bead on her forehead beneath the mask and her breath was growing ragged, but she stood as still and quiet as possible. There was nothing else she  _could_ do without making a scene or drawing attention to herself. Step by step, the line moved forward and she was powerless to do anything other than stare at him. It was stupid, she knew; look too long in anyone’s direction and they were sure to look back, even with her mask, but how could she look away? He was right  _there_. Years of staying just far enough to keep an eye on the First Order but to also remain out of their grasp, and… now she was here, and so was he. After all this time. Briefly Rey wondered if he ever thought of her, if like her, he ever wondered how things might have been had he not sent the order to destroy Crait and the Resistance they were rebuilding after that first battle. She hoped he didn't.

She also halfway prayed that he did, if only to hope that it might keep him up at night in terror.

 _Idiot_ , she reprimanded herself. Thoughts like that would get her killed. He’d made his choice. That was apparent now more than ever.

Which brought her back to the matter at hand: Hux’s men were about to ask for her name, residence, possibly her occupation. What would she tell them? What  _could_  she tell them? Obviously it couldn’t be the truth, not with him standing right there and  _stars_  she hoped her modulator worked well enough—

“You there,” one of the officers called, beckoning toward her with a nod. Rey’s feet moved forward of their own accord, carrying her to the makeshift desk that’d been set up under a tarp to shield the officers from the now blazing Rakatan sun. He stared at her, tapping a finger on the makeshift desk. “Name and residence?”

_Don't look at him. Don't look at him._

Rey’s throat seized. She wasn’t sure she could muster an answer. Her head was reeling, and it was harder to calm herself when she couldn't  reach to the Force that would have settled her shaking veins. Her lips formed a name without her mind’s permission. “Kira,” she blurted finally. It was an old name, one she’d encountered a few times when rifling through old holocrons when she’d visited a temple a year back; a name she might’ve chosen for herself, given the chance. “I live down Ll’awa Road, in the jungle near the temple. At the parts shop.”

The words came out shaky, but as she felt her nerves calm a bit, Rey didn’t think anyone noticed. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the Knights was watching her—the small, feminine one, buzzing with chaotic energy and her helmet glinting in the sun.  _Focus_ , she told herself, forcing her attention away from the company Kylo had opted to surround himself with in her place and back to the officer who’d addressed her. She didn’t live with Darr anymore, but there was no way these officers could know that yet. Besides, she didn’t have another residence to list. Ll’awa Road was as close as she'd had to a home in at least the past year.

The officer raised a brow, his mouth drawn in a stern line. “Is that all?”

Rey blinked. She didn’t know how addresses worked. She hadn’t needed one in her AT-AT or any of the other temporary shelters she’d passed through since then. Swallowing, she nodded and reminded herself again to keep her eyes on the skeptic officer. It was  _so hard_  not to look in  _his_  direction. She could feel his presence all over her being, raising the hair on her arms and neck even without the Force.

“Do you at least  _own_  that shop?” continued the officer.

She shook her head.

“You lot sure are primitive,” the officer sighed, grabbing Rey’s hand and pulling back her glove to stamp her wrist with some sort of microchip injector, which no doubt doubled as a tracker. It pinched and left a small bead of a blood on her skin, but she hardly paid attention to it. She’d dig it out later. She’d done it before.

Rey stepped quickly to her right, eager to leave.

“Temple, did you say?” an artificial, feminine voice called from her left. Rey stilled, cursed herself for the lapse in judgment. Of course they’d hear her. Of course they’d be  _interested_  in the temple.

After a beat, she turned to see the shorter, tremulous Knight she’d eyed earlier, only she’d moved a few paces closer like a tusk cat eyeing its food. Rey kept very still.  _Blast_ , she thought, repeating it a million times in her head. Her weight shifted instinctively to the balls of her feet, ready to leap away in case the Knight lunged for her. She had to be careful around this one, Rey saw that now. She  _had_  mentioned the temple, though, and the Knight was clearly waiting for an answer. “Yes,” Rey said—cold, distant, trying not to draw interest, though her tongue could hardly finish the word.

The Knight gasped behind her helmet. “Master!” she crooned like some sort of pet, arching her head back toward the looming figure of Kylo Ren, still somehow so overpowering after having lost so much muscle. The Knight cocked her head to the side and said that word again, almost like a beg. Rey’s gut twisted at the intimacy of it. She thought she might be sick.

His attention was grabbed the second time the Knight said it, and Rey quickly looked away. She heard the thud of his footsteps, the soft crinkle of leather as he approached but she refused to meet his gaze even through the mask. She wouldn’t. Not unless he directly addressed her, which had been  _awful_  the last time around, and she didn’t know if she could do it again—

“Yes, Lokka?” Kylo asked. He seemed impatient. A stone seemed to sink to the pit of her stomach at the sound of the Knight’s name on his tongue, and she kept her eyes locked anywhere but on them.  _Don’t be ridiculous_ , she told herself.

“Master, she knows the temple. She lives in the jungle nearby.” Lokka really  _was_ like a pet, waiting to be rewarded for good behavior. Kylo stared at his Knight for a second, then Rey felt the weight of his eyes fall on her. “Sobu,” he said, still watching Rey, and another Knight, taller and slouched over slightly with apprehension, stepped forward. Even this Knight’s name was intimate from Kylo’s lips. He must have known them for a long time. “Do you have your datapad?”

“Yes, Master,” said Sobu, fumbling in his cloak. “Here it is, Master. Here.”

Kylo ignored him. “You,” he said to Rey. It was a crude, simple word, loaded with connotations and memories oblivious to him. He seemed to just barely recognize her mask from earlier in the dark early morning skies when he'd snapped the life out of Smear in front of the whole crowd.

Rey briefly considered not replying, but it would be cause for suspicion, so she managed, “Supreme Leader.” It was the first time she’d said the words aloud, and she hated the sound of the title on her tongue. The old modulator in her mask hid her displeasure, but the title was still disingenuous, contrived, a disgrace to everything that’d passed between them.  _Ben_ , she wanted to scream at him, but she couldn’t. Ben was gone, and forgetting that meant death. Likely for more than just her.

“You’re familiar with the Temple of the Ancients?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Rey closed her eyes, unable to look at his face any longer. He wouldn’t know the difference either way. She steeled herself and drew a breath through her modulator, slow and steady. Never had she been more thankful for the cloak, the gloves, the boots she’d acquired over the years. “I know of it,” she mustered. The modulator couldn't fix everything, however. The word came out a bit too breathy and flustered even with the machine in front of her lips.

He was considering her short answer with a frown. Rey didn’t think meditating outside the temple walls and begging the megalith to let its shields down counted as  _familiarity_ , but she had enough experience with it to know it wouldn't drop for just anyone. A thought nagged at her then, wondering just what he and his Knights needed from the temple and why they were asking anyone, let alone  _her_ , about a structure that should only concern those in tune with the Force.

And then it nagged at her some more. Despite herself, a burning curiosity started to build within her. Learning what they wanted with the temple would give her insight into his agenda for himself and the First Order—what were his goals? What was he  _planning?_  Rey tried very hard to convince herself that she had to learn it to combat whatever he was set out to do, but the more she tried, the more she needed to know how he became… that.

How he became like a walking corpse, living off the Force while Rey herself had completely shut herself from it. It scared her, and she wasn't sure what had caused it. Had the existence of the bond or an excessive use of the Force done that to him? Was remaining open to the bond itself for so long the problem? If so, she had to cut herself off from it even faster, permanently, and perhaps the answer to it was in the Temple of the Ancients. She could finally be  _rid_  of it and then potentially reopen herself to the Force… and finally re-emerge from hiding once she grew strong enough to rebuild the Resistance. It was what she was supposed to do. Wasn't it?

 _The temple has answers,_ she thought definitively. Perhaps not ones she could use now (she quickly reminded herself to remain patient if that happened) but there were always benefits. There was a reason it was so heavily guarded by the force field around it. The shield was protecting something. What it was, she didn't know, but she could protect it from  _him_ , though only do that if she got  _into_  the temple.

“Do you know how to obtain entry?” Kylo was all business and clipped words. They broke into her thoughts and the tone gutted her. For half a second she allowed herself to wonder what might happen if he knew  _she_  was in front of him, if his distant voice would break and crack open to an old Ben.

The Ben who didn’t exist anymore. Again, she found herself wondering that, and her fingers dug into her palms. She kept losing herself, now that he was so close.

But the moment passed and she had to think about his question. The only one Rey knew who was in close proximity to the temple was Darr. It was a gamble to think Darr might know how to access the temple, or that she’d know anyone who would—but Rey couldn’t think of a better starting point. Darr lived in the jungle just beyond the temple’s hill, and as far as Rey could tell she’d been there for decades. With great effort she said, “I know someone who might.”

Kylo inclined his head to the side, but his eyes were trained on her mask. Those dead, dead eyes. “Sobu,” he said again, and the Knight rushed forward in a blink of an eye. “Log our path in your datapad.” He paid no attention as Sobu muttered Kylo’s orders with diligence under his breath.

Instead Kylo bowed his head slightly toward Rey, still watching her. “Lead on. We will follow,” said Kylo, as though he were simply asking her to show him to the nearest diner. When his Knights came to flank his shoulders in an all-too-convenient, unsettling way, it was too suddenly jarring, and at once everything felt foreign.

“I work for credits,” Rey blurted.

His brows rose. One of the other Knights who Rey recognized as Mahad from when she’d been rounded up with Smear and Droid made a noise from behind his helmet. It took her a moment to realize he was laughing.

Yes, it was an audacious, uncouth thing to say when Kylo and the Knights were so unpredictable, but it seemed even stranger  _not_  to say it. The Rakatans were crude, simple beings and the thought that anyone on this planet would work for free seemed absurd. She knew it well after spending so much time here. Besides, she’d never seen anyone in Niima Outpost offer a service without mandating payment.

The tall female Knight who Rey recognized as one of the two who had rounded her, Smear, and Droid into the larger group stepped forward, likely about to demand what amount Rey was asking for. But Kylo beat her to it. “Find us access to the temple and you’ll be compensated tenfold,” he said, like it meant nothing.

Clearly, he needed access to the temple.

Rey didn’t need the credits, but she nodded, inclining her mask down to his boots, noting the scuff marks that seemed too harsh for a Supreme Leader to have acquired by sitting passively on the throne. Bending back up to face him, she saw his brows rise again in expectancy.

“Well,” she said, before she could help herself, “follow me, then.” She cringed, prayed that it didn't sound too daring or too much like a trap—then she stepped out of the line and vowed that she'd keep her damn mouth shut. She didn't know what word could make him distrust her and lead him to search her mind, but she didn't want to find out.

Rey tapped her tongue to the roof of her mouth and said nothing else to the Supreme Leader or his Knights. As she walked, heart pounding, she heard their boots shift in the dirt as they followed. Kylo was first, his gait becoming familiar again, and he fell into step just behind her, towering over her shoulder. His Knights filed in behind him.

She clenched her jaw, shot a prayer to whoever was listening, and led them into the jungle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shakes kylo] SHES RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as we liked writing it!! and, as always, thanks so much for the support <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for your reference, here are some rough character sheets for [rey](https://i.imgur.com/Z9qE6Fs.png) and [kylo](https://i.imgur.com/ge1sSzM.png) at this point in the story. 
> 
> also, f-bombs! kylo doesn't use 'kriff' much in this house. onward!

The dark side was strong on Rakata Prime. Kylo could feel it in the earth beneath his feet, how the planet had been corrupted by millennia of dark-side worship, the soil fertilized with spilt blood of both Rakatan friends and enemies alike. He tasted it in the air, reverberating around the Rakata themselves and felt his own power rise in the back of his throat and the tips of his fingers to meet it. Despite all that, Kylo didn’t particularly enjoy being there. It was too hot, too humid, too antiquated in spite of supposed Rakatan technological prowess. He’d read history holos that told of their imperialism, how they were among the first to achieve hyperdrive technology which they’d used to invade and enslave nearby systems, forcing their inhabitants to build and labor without pay. They were no match for the strength and might of the First Order of course, but they were efficient miners, expert terraformers and they didn’t need much to survive. Most of the time they just subsisted on the corpses of slaves who’d collapsed from exhaustion, or those of slain enemies—but not before defiling them.

They’d wasted all of that tenacity and resourcefulness in failing to migrate their society to a fleet. Planets always proved easier to pin down and conquer than ships, especially when they were unsuspecting, their anti-aircraft artillery no match for First Order strength, and General Hux was already making headway on other cities and ports. Perhaps his second-in-command would even find something on Rakata Prime he liked, ornery as he’d been about setting course for the place.

Kylo only cared about the temple. Never before had he encountered a place so guarded, so shielded from his advancements and it made him more determined than ever to break through its protections and discover whatever secrets it held. For the first time in a long while, he felt _interested_. It gave him energy, gave him strength and set his nerves humming with excitement. At present he was powerless to do anything other than follow their guide, however. It was aggravating, and he was losing his patience. They’d been walking for what felt like hours.

Their guide was human from what he could tell, and female judging by the sound of her modulated voice. She was covered head to toe in heavy fabrics and the hood of her mantle was sitting low over her mask; the cloth draped down her torso and back, and despite it she still avoided every thick branch that caught in Kylo’s own massive cloak. Kylo looked past their guide and deeper into the jungle, hating every step he took when it refused to let up on the sticky heat of the leafy overgrowth. He evidently wasn’t attuned to the climate here, and neither were his Knights. Mahad’s uncomfortable grunts were getting louder with each hour; Lokka had finally begun to quiet down as the air grew thicker with humidity.

Just in front of Kylo, their guide took a large step over a toppled log decorated in thick tresses of moss that almost made it look like a good place to stop and sit for a while. Kylo grit his teeth together. He didn’t want to have to take a break—he wanted to find a way into the Temple of the Ancients and be on his way—but he could feel the sweat dripping through his hair and down his neck, under his thick pleated collar. Highly uncomfortable and hating every second of it, he asked their guide rather rudely, “There wasn’t an easier way to get to your shop?”

Before their guide could respond, Sobu opened his mouth and fouled Kylo’s mood even more. “Master, this is the fastest route to Ll’awa Road. It’s being logged into my datapad as you desired.”

“Fine,” he snapped, shaking away the pines that had sewn into the cloak wrapped heavily over his shoulder. “As long as this pays off, I'll endure it.” He kept an eye on their guide as she expertly stepped through the vines that spread over the jungle floor. “You,” he said, lengthening his strides to catch up to her shoulder.

She slowed slightly, masked face glancing over her shoulder, and the distant, cold voice came from the modulator: “Supreme Leader.”

Kylo ignored the obvious distaste for his title in her tone. So long as she did as he told her, he wouldn't bother himself with the details. “For your compensation,” he started, pausing to pull a tiny beetul from the fabric of his cloak, “we can transfer the credits, assuming you follow through on your job. But we need a name to do it.”

“Her name is Kira!” said Lokka several paces behind them. She’d taken off her helmet from the humidity and her voice was clear without her modulator. The rest of them had kept their helmets on. “I heard her when she was being logged.”

The fact that Kylo had only been able to get two words from “Kira” in the last half hour was _annoying_.

“Kira _what,_ ” Kylo demanded. It came out a little too frustrated, a little too involved. He had to remind himself that he was the Supreme Leader, and that concerning himself with menial things like records and logs would only serve to undermine his authority. He’d excelled at those things as Snoke’s Enforcer, but those days were past. When it was clear that she wouldn’t answer him and making a big deal of it would only hold them up, he turned to Sobu and told him, “Ensure that our guide is properly compensated. Assuming she holds up her end of the bargain, of course.”

The guide stopped and turned around. Fastening her chinstrap she said, “It’s just through here.”

She led them through a copse of overgrown trees and vines and for a second Kylo wondered if she was taking them anywhere at all, but then they broke through the jungle onto some sorry excuse for a road—it was more of a _path_ than anything—and he saw the parts shop. Not bothering to mask his disdain for the place he asked, “What do they service here? Gonk droids?”

“It's a fully capable service station, I assure you,” came a biting tone from her mask. That was the longest sentence she’d said to any of them yet. However, it didn’t appear as though she was finished. “But if there’s _anything_ I can do to make you more comfortable, please let me know. I wouldn’t want the Supreme Leader to feel inconvenienced.” The longer she spoke the less the mask hid the fact that the guide Lokka had so thoughtfully picked out was an audacious and scornful thing, obviously displeased with her circumstances.

Lokka sprung before he could respond. She darted to their guide, helmet tucked under her arm and stopped only a few inches from Kira’s mask. “You don’t sound very respectful of Master,” Lokka said. Her young face inclined slightly to the right and the trademark quirk of her lips made her threat seem like a promise. With sweat dripping down her pale, freckled cheeks and orange hair drawn back in a bun she said, “Try that again, why don’t you? Say it. Say it again, this time respectfully.”

The guide said nothing, and Lokka opened her mouth again. Whatever annoyance Kylo had felt towards their latest accompaniment was replaced by aggravation at always having to keep his youngest Knight in check. “Lokka, stand down,” he commanded; Lokka swiveled around, looking incredulous and appalled that he’d let some ingrate _nobody_ speak to him this way. If he were Hux, he’d care (obviously), or perhaps if their guide were a person of consequence as opposed to some peripatetic they’d found on the road, but neither were the case and he had more pressing things to attend to. “Please, _Kira_ , show us inside.”

Their guide was statuesque, and though Kylo couldn’t see her face he imagined she was keeping a cautious eye on Lokka as the Knight backed away. Then she turned to rap on the door of the shop and said, “It’s this way.”

They waited in silence on the doorstep for a moment before Kylo heard the shuffle of feet from inside, followed by the creak of a rusted hinge as the door swung open. An older Rakata female greeted them, eyes leering and teeth bared. With her armor all covered in grease and the way she moved slowly, joints all old and worn, she didn’t _look_ like someone who could grant them entry to the Temple of the Ancients. The Rakata grunted something in her native tongue, to which their guide responded in turn. A few more words were exchanged, but Kylo had never studied Rakata—he’d always had droids to do his translating—and he had no idea what they’d said. It was a creeping, uncomfortable feeling being kept in the dark like that and judging by the anxious pulsing of the Force around them, he knew his Knights felt the same.

“Who is this?” he asked after a moment, raising his tone to catch the one called Kira’s attention.

She glanced at him. “A friend. She’s lived here a long time.”

Kylo’s upper lip curled. “I’m not interested in meeting your _friends_ ; what I need is access to the Temple of the Ancients. Can she help us or not?”

She hesitated and shifted from one foot to the other.

“This is your Supreme Leader,” Yuzha interjected, speaking pointedly at the Rakata and gesturing in Kylo’s direction. “We were told by our guide that you would be able to help us gain access to the Temple of the Ancients, but our faith in her is misplaced if you have nothing to offer us.”

The Rakata only seemed to understand that she was being addressed, and nothing more. Her narrowed, antenna-like eyes swiveled back to their guide. This time her words sounded sharper, more clipped even if Kylo couldn’t glean what was actually being said. Rakata was a brutal language and it sounded natural on the shopkeeper’s tongue, but it was jarring when Kira replied—explaining what Yuzha had said, if she knew what was good for her.

A few more things were said between them before Kira turned back to them. “She doesn’t know how to access the temple, but she knows who does. There’s... someone called ‘the One’.”

Next to him Mahad chuckled, leaning heavy on his broadsword and shaking his head. “This is a wild fynock chase if I’ve ever seen one, Master.”

Kylo felt heat rising to his cheeks. He was not going to be made a fool of—especially not after that miserable trek through the jungle. “And where is this ‘One’?” he sneered, fingers instinctively moving towards the hilt of his lightsaber. “Tell your _friend_ that she should summon him immediately if she values her life. We won’t be kept waiting.” His fingers curled slightly by his side, an unconscious behavior as he felt for the Rakata’s signature with the Force. He could take it if he needed to.

He couldn’t see Kira’s face, but he got the impression that she was staring at him, long and hard. There was something almost familiar about her steadfastness, something that made Kylo reach out to her Force signature as he did with the Rakata without thinking, and he felt… not much of anything; the faint pulse of a life force, but no power, no strength. He shook his head and grit his teeth. He was going to make a fool out of all of them if he didn’t take control—of both the situation and himself.

Crooking several fingers in the Rakata’s direction, tendrils of invisible power curling around her throat he said, “Take us to the One.”

The Rakata’s eyes bulged and a small, choked noise escaped her wide mouth.

“Stop it!” Kira demanded, darting for the Rakata but Yuzha stopped her with a wave of Force power that knocked her to the ground. Kira's modulator blipped and phased over her pained grunt.

“You do not give orders to the Supreme Leader,” Kylo heard Yuzha say from his periphery.

“Master does as he pleases!” Sobu chimed in behind him.

Sobu’s voice grated against Kylo’s eardrums, shortening his patience further. He used the Force to drag the Rakata to him, ignoring the unabashed hatred in her slitted eyes. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice a deadly whisper. He knew the Rakata couldn’t understand him, but he also knew he didn’t need words to obtain the answer.

Curling a hand alongside the Rakata’s temple, Kylo closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into her mind. Dark energy flooded his senses, washing like a wave through the connection he’d opened. Her thoughts were clear and organized, her memories mundane. He saw flashes of the parts shop, day in and day out; he heard the grind of machinery, the buzz of a drill bit and the crackle of a welding torch. All of it was permeated by the scent of sizzling flesh—what beasts, he wasn’t sure—and the occasional copper tang of blood filled his mouth. In her mind the humidity didn’t bother him; instead it was comforting and soothing to his skin. Kylo pushed deeper, seeking thoughts of the temple and someone called the One—

The image of a girl flashed past, standing in the parts shop with her chestnut hair in a bun and her back turned towards him. Kylo froze; his hold on the Rakata’s mind became iron-tight, his eyes frantically searching for the vision that had just escaped him. Somewhere he heard a scream, but he was hardly listening. His blood had gone cold.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and shook him, snapping him from his daze. He blinked and sunlight filled his vision, blinding him for a second before it re-adjusted and he saw Mahad. Back in the present. The Rakata gasped for air in front of him, having collapsed to her knees.

“Supreme Leader,” Mahad said, sounding uncertain for once.

Kylo shrugged his hand off. “It’s nothing,” he managed, though his breathing was ragged. “Nothing.”

“Are you s—” Mahad started, but Kylo cut him off.

“Yuzha, extract the whereabouts of this so-called ‘One’ from her mind. Find me when you finish,” he commanded before stalking away to clear his thoughts. He turned and pushed the air that he didn't know he was holding out in one quick breath… and he didn’t notice how the one called Kira watched him go, or how her gloved hands had started to shake at her sides.

  
  


_Did he—did he see me?_

It was a thought that stayed frozen in her head for a thousand eternities until her mind caught up to what had happened with Kylo and Darr. Then, at once, the fear burned between her temples. _What was it? What did he see? Oh Force, what could he have seen?_ Each thought ricocheted through her brain like a blaster bolt, shooting down her spine and setting her limbs on fire. Her entire being was about to combust, she was certain of it. Rey’s instincts screamed at her, telling her to re-open their connection and let his thoughts pour into hers, so she could at least know whether she needed to fight or flee. If he saw her in Darr’s mind, if he knew she was alive, right here in front of him—

“You there,” someone said—a man’s voice, one of the Knights—but Rey wasn’t really listening; her thoughts were too loud, and overlaid with the sound of her chattering teeth. She stared after where Kylo had disappeared around the bend in the road, half-expecting him to come charging back around the corner with rage in his eyes and his lightsaber drawn. And Darr, poor Darr was on the ground, he’d hurt her and so had the other tall Knight—

“Hey! Mahad’s _talking_ to you.” The young Knight who’d tried to scare her earlier—Lokka, he’d called her—snapped in Rey’s face and pulled her back to the present. Rey swallowed, dragging her eyes from the clearing toward the stocky Knight called Mahad. _Don't get ahead of yourself,_ she thought. Her gloved fingers curled into fists to settle their tremors. There was still the chance that “Kira” was safe, and Rey had to keep that in mind, otherwise she'd jump headfirst into a problem she wouldn't know how to solve.

“Your friend wasn’t very forthcoming. Help me get her inside,” Mahad told her after Lokka took a step back from her. Rey looked down to see Darr unconscious at Mahad's feet. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she thought she might be sick. If she hadn't brought them here, Darr wouldn't have gone through this. Tears rolled down Rey’s cheeks beneath the mask. When Kylo had stormed away from her and his Knights, disappearing to who knew where, Yuzha had quickly laid a gloved hand on the Rakata’s temple and done as she was told. It must have been too much, too painful. The Rakata had fainted. A sad, bitter voice in Rey’s head whispered that it was necessary to gain access to the temple and unravel whatever Kylo was scheming, but stars, how was she ever going to make this up to Darr?

“Hel- _lo_ ,” Mahad said, kicking at Rey’s boots with his own. “She's _your_ friend. Come on, pick her up. Rakata are heavy.”

As Rey knelt down and hefted Darr’s upper body into her arms (Mahad angled his broadsword in the air and suddenly Darr felt lighter than a leaf, clearly using the Force), she heard the other male Knight—Sobu—mutter to Yuzha apprehensively. It wasn't obvious what he was saying, but his disdain for Rey was clear, and evidently he distrusted everything about her.

“Why don’t you just leave her? Who cares.” Lokka crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at Mahad.

“Because, _Lokka_ , I don’t want her dying and having a whole bunch of her friends track us and ambush us somewhere in the jungle tonight when we’re sleeping,” he snapped. “We’re on _their_ turf, remember. You need to be more thoughtful about that sort of thing or you’ll get yourself killed.”

 _And because it’s the right thing to do_ , Rey thought, but she kept it to herself. She couldn’t see Mahad’s face, but she gathered he was probably a good bit older than Lokka. Judging by Lokka’s surprised expression and the way Yuzha and Sobu’s heads jolted upward, Rey wondered—briefly—if this sort of talk from Mahad was rare. She didn’t know any of the Knights well enough (nor did she want to), and had only heard them as the demons who blindly followed their Supreme Leader to every planet he desecrated in his conquests. Now, however, it seemed they did possess some semblance of conscious thought.

Still drowning in guilt and drenched in sweat from the humidity, she helped him carry Darr to the back of the shop where they laid her unconscious form down on her cot. Lokka and the taller Knights, Yuzha and Sobu, followed them inside; Yuzha stepped closer to Darr again and wrapped a hand around the Rakata’s coned head once more. Darr flinched and cried out, writhing in the cot, though she didn’t regain consciousness. “Just to double check,” said Yuzha once she’d finished and her hand pulled away.

The air was heavy with tension, however, and Lokka’s eyes were narrowed toward Mahad, who met her stare levelly. It didn’t seem as though they were going to go anywhere anytime soon. Lokka cocked her head to the side. “Mahad’s got a spine,” she said finally, leaning forward on her toes.

“I’ve got a _brain,_ ” Mahad shot back. “And Master would agree with me.”

The younger Knight rocked off her toes and back to her heels. “Hmmm, we’ll see. _I_ think he’ll agree with me when I do _this.”_

Rey didn’t even have the time to look over to Darr when Lokka whipped the slugthrower from the holster strapped around her chest and shot Darr in the head.

  
  


Silence.

Pure, undiluted, miserable fucking silence. It filled his head, his heart, his lungs, made him so full of _empty_ he thought he might explode. Kylo tugged and pulled at the roots of his hair with trembling fingers, crying out when several clumps of it fell out to land on his lap. He was sitting on a fallen log a little ways off the road, and now he knew he should’ve walked further into the undergrowth. He couldn’t let his Knights see him like this: broken and debilitated by his pathetic delusions once again. Drawing a sharp breath he forced himself to listen, _really listen_ to the Force for some inkling of feeling or thought that might tell him she was alive, that she _hadn’t_ died and neither had their bond, and that there was still some way for him to find her. By some miracle.

No one answered. No one ever did, and no one ever would. He tried again, pulling on that empty spot in his head as hard as he pulled on his hair with the effort of it. Again, the emptiness was deafening.

Fuck!

No one would _ever_ answer. Why couldn’t he fucking understand that? Force, how was he so _incompetent_ that he couldn’t get it through his head, after four pointless miserable fucking years? He had NO reason to believe she was alive, absolutely no reason to think she hadn’t perished with the rest of her little _friends,_ the ones she’d left him for, the ones she’d been so desperate to save—when Hux’s Destroyer had closed in on their makeshift Malastare base on his orders. They’d hardly had time to lick their wounds from Crait before Hux had decimated them and what little remained of their fleet, and she shouldn’t have stayed behind but she _had_ and it had all fallen apart. Their last stand had been more of a suicide than anything, led by that joke of a pilot he should’ve killed when he’d had the chance, just another entry in his long list of fucking mistakes—

That girl, though, in the Rakata’s memory. She’d looked just _like_ her from what he’d seen—even her hair had been styled similarly, and those clothes, they’d been a little too reminiscent of a Jedi’s….

Kylo exhaled through his teeth. It was impossible. It was fucking impossible—his fingers curled again into his hair—and he needed to get that through his fucking head—he bit his lip, staring at the dirt under his boots—before he let his delusions unravel fucking everything he’d accomplished without her. If she was alive, he would know it. _Wouldn’t_ he? He’d never had the chance to study the bond as he would have liked, but the one thing he _did_ know was that it couldn’t be controlled.

Rey was dead. She’d been dead for _four years_! He’d felt it! He should be used to the silence by now. But he wasn’t, and instead he kept seeking distractions to fill his head in place of where the bond used to be.

Slowly, his hands dropped from his limp hair and he breathed out as best he could even while his chest stuttered with tension. That wasn’t her, he reasoned as his eyes trailed along the specks of drying mud on the tips of his boots. He was pathetic for letting himself hope.

She was _dead_.

He was seeing her everywhere, making her up where she shouldn’t be. His mission wasn’t _about_ her. No matter how many times his subordinates would bring it up—no matter how fucking often his Knights would rub it in his face—he wouldn’t let this bring him down. He couldn’t afford it.

Kylo shut his eyes, pulled the focus away from the plaguing empty spot in the Force, stood up to legs that felt like fire, and breathed in—

“MASTER,” yelled Sobu, like a wailing Gungan.

—and breathed out with a _withering_ glare, already fed up with whatever was about to leave his Knight’s mouth. He didn’t bother attempting to collect himself before starting back towards the road, throwing vines and brush out of his face with the Force as he went. He’d damn well had it with this hell pit of a planet. They were getting into that temple one way or another, and _quickly_. Kylo refused to waste another minute in this awful place.

“MASTER!” came Sobu’s cry again just as Kylo’s boots met the gravel of the road.

“ _What_?” Kylo grit out.

Sobu’s shoulders slumped at the tone, which did nothing to help Kylo’s mood. “Yuzha did as you instructed her, Master. We know where the One is.”

“Decided to take your time?” Kylo said scathingly. He brushed past Sobu, not waiting for his Knight to catch up to him as he stalked back towards the parts shop. The hovel of a place came into view a moment later, and Kylo had half a mind to level it then and there, if only so he wouldn’t have to look at its ugly facade a moment longer when—

Something was wrong.

Distress permeated his senses, a potent mixture of dark emotions and fraught energies that seemed to be coming from multiple sources. Up ahead he saw Mahad in standing in front of the parts shop, making a series of blunt gestures and motions at Lokka. She was on her toes, looking like she was about ready to tackle him to the ground. They both stopped when they saw him.

“What’s this?” Kylo demanded. A headache pounded behind his eyes. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was waste more time breaking up a sibling’s quarrel between Lokka and Mahad.

Mahad chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Take a guess. This young one's behaving rashly again. She’s a liability, Master—acting without orders or any sense of rationale. We should have left her aboard the _Judicator_.” Lokka sprung at him then, all claws and fury, igniting her blade as she lunged, but Mahad was prepared; he drew his broadsword from the ground in a flash and struck her with its blunt edge, sending the younger Knight careening backwards where she landed in the dirt. “See what I mean?” he said to Kylo, before shoving the blade of his sword back into the ground.

“ _Fuck_ you old man,” Lokka spat from where she lay sprawled out by the doorway. She made a face and unceremoniously wiped her mouth clean from dirt.

“Where’s Yuzha?” Kylo managed with barely-subdued irritation.

“Inside, cleaning up Lokka’s mess,” Mahad told him.

Kylo’s brows quirked upward at that. So his youngest Knight had spilled blood, then. Not that it was a surprise. He only wondered whether she’d chosen the Rakata or their guide. It didn’t matter either way, so long as they had the information they needed. Mahad waited by his sword as Lokka cursed him out several feet away, but Kylo had nothing to say to either of them, looking toward the shop.

As if on cue Yuzha appeared in the doorway, blood speckled on her otherwise pristine helmet, and she was followed by Kira; it was safe to assume Lokka had slayed the Rakata. “Master,” Yuzha said with an acknowledging nod in his direction. “We have what we need. The One is a local tribal leader. He makes camp at the Black Rakatan Settlement—in an enclave along the beachfront, near the Temple of the Ancients.”

"Sobu, log our path into your datapad," said Kylo; Sobu immediately whipped out his datapad and began punching onto the screen, murmuring fervently under his breath. Kylo turned to address Kira. "Guide. Are you familiar with the settlement’s whereabouts?”

Kira nodded but didn’t speak.

“Take us there. If we leave now, we should be able to reach the encampment by nightfall. Or am I mistaken?” continued Kylo, in a hurry. His limbs screamed with anticipation, more than ready to be on their way. He leaned forward again, just barely catching the reflection of his face in the lenses on her mask.

Kira nodded again and this time, her silence struck him as odd. He detected an unevenness in her demeanor… something like grief, perhaps. Then a thought occurred to him. “And the body?” he said, turning to Yuzha.

“We’ll leave it,” his Knight replied as she made her way down from the shop’s entry, out onto the road. “Surely there is some scavenger in need of a meal.”

Kylo withheld the nausea in his stomach and managed a nod, choosing to pass over the rest of Yuzha’s _explanation._ His entire being recoiled at the word _scavenger_ and the image he’d come to associate with it, so he turned his eyes to their guide, motioning forward with a heavy hand.

Her mask tilted back toward the shop once, but then came back to face Kylo. “Go on,” said Kylo, and Kira shuffled forward as his eyes followed her.

With that, they started on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's The One like? is The One as cringey as it sounds? are kylo and rey ever gonna goddamn talk? [shakes kylo] SHES STILL RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU
> 
> again, for your reference, here are some rough character sheets for [rey](https://i.imgur.com/Z9qE6Fs.png) and [kylo](https://i.imgur.com/ge1sSzM.png) at this point in the story. 
> 
> anyway, thanks again for reading and let us all know what you think!!


	6. Chapter 6

In the distance, the Black Rakatan Settlement looked no grander than any of the other dilapidated, humidity-worn structures Kylo had seen on Rakata Prime thus far. It was flat and a dull dirt brown, half-buried in the beach and it looked more primeval than any of the buildings at the outpost where he’d first arrived. The shadows had grown long with the day by the time it came into view, and in them he could see how his Knights’ feet dragged behind him. His brows furrowed as they approached the shore, their guide turning her head once over her shoulder and saying, “This is it.”

Kylo slowed, staring at it and standing at the edge of where jungle undergrowth met sand. That _couldn’t_ be where they’d find their answer for how to get into the temple. A hollow, brittle laugh escaped the back of his throat. “You’re sure you know where you are?”

Their guide tilted her mask at him and his Knights for a long, long moment, before she simply turned back around and continued walking.

“Sobu,” said Kylo, voice sharp as the younger Knight bowed his head to his datapad. “Mark this location and be wary.”

“Yes, Master, of course, Master.” Sobu’s long fingers were light and hurried on the datapad, his overgrown fingernails tapping on the screen. He was good for record-keeping, if not much else.

Ahead of them, Kira trudged her way over driftwood and clusters of dried kelp toward the settlement, shoulders stiff and fists clenched like she wanted to be _done with it_. Kylo watched her lift a heavy hand to her face as if to wipe the sweat away, but instead she jerked her hood down further over her mask. He almost let loose a second incredulous laugh, half-delirious from the heat. Did she think he and his Knights were enjoying themselves, or that  _they_ wanted to be here?

“Keep close,” he told the armored bodies which flanked him as an afterthought. “We don’t know how different these Rakata are from those in the outpost. They _should_ know of our arrival, but if not, we’ll have to make do.”

He took a begrudging step forward to follow their guide. As dusk began to pass over Rakata Prime, the humidity became more tolerable, but sweat had dried against Kylo’s skin and it clung stubbornly to him as the weather began to cool. The second moon orbiting the planet was more visible in the sky now, while the first was beginning to outline itself in the deep blue of space. More and more beetuls groaned about in the jungle behind them while waves crashed along the shoreline.

 _Fine_ , he grit to himself as he started out across the beach. Just then, something about the sensation of little grains shifting and sliding beneath his feet jolted a memory loose in his mind. Images of a desert planet not far from this one flashed behind his eyes, of light-side acolytes making camp amongst the dunes—and an old man on his knees, greeting death with knowing eyes.

_I know where you come from. Before you called yourself ‘Kylo Ren’._

Kylo almost bit through his tongue, just as Kira rapped on the blast door of the settlement’s longhouse.

“Hurry up,” he barked at his Knights a second later, if only so he had _somewhere_ to direct his frustration. Kylo’s fingers hovered over the hilt of his ‘saber while his whole being buzzed with anticipation. He sensed lifeforms within, and the dark side stirred over the beach as if it’d been beckoned. Behind him, he heard the ignition of Lokka’s blade and the _thud_ of Mahad’s broadsword hitting the sand.

The blast door opened. A Rakata, clad head-to-toe save for his thighs in obsidian battle armor stepped out, followed by another. Kira took a wary step back and Kylo couldn’t help noting she looked unarmed. Well, if she ended up Rakata fodder, that wasn’t his problem. If this settlement truly was the residence of the so-called ‘One’ and they would be able to open the temple, then their little guide had already served her purpose.

“Supreme Leader,” the first Rakata said in Basic with a grin. “What an honor.” He was male and very tall, taller than the other. Both were extremely broad and Kylo didn’t fail to note the blasters on either of their hips, each set to kill. The second Rakata grunted something in their native tongue, to which he received a response that Kylo didn’t understand.

Kira interjected before he could request clarification, however, and for a second he felt a twinge of guilt at his previous thought. “That may be true, but we come to you with an entirely professional request, I assure you,” she said. The modulator failed to mask her fatigue.

The first Rakata’s grin widened, something of an amused gleam flashing across his narrowed eyes. “I am called Orsaa. This is Lhunu, and as you can see he doesn’t speak Basic. What of your professional request? Company is rare for us.” Even to Kylo he sounded skeptical.

“We’ve come to speak with the One,” said Kylo immediately, stepping forward. He didn’t need _Kira_ to handle his affairs. He removed his hood, letting it fall around the shoulders, and drew himself up to his full stature. “We require access to the Temple of the Ancients.”

Orsaa snorted. “Of course you do.”

A beat passed. Then Kylo’s fingers curled into fists and his head cocked to the side, daring Orsaa to say it again, to test Kylo’s patience.

“Did you ‘seek access’ to the Lothal temple as well, Supreme Leader?” Orsaa let his words hang in the air for a long, tense moment.

Kylo’s jaw clenched. Fire seeped into his bloodstream, lethal and white-hot. He seized that energy and allowed it to permeate his fingertips, flashing and crackling in the form of purple-tinged lightning sparks. Both Rakata took a step back. “The First Order should have visited your planet sooner,” Kylo said, voice low and silky. “It appears Rakata Prime could use a lesson in humility.”

Lokka’s saber hummed behind him, joined by the ignition of two others—Yuzha’s and Sobu’s.

“No need for all of that,” Orsaa crooned with a wave of his claws from where he stood at the entry. He bent down to pick a speck off his boot. Bent over at the waist he continued, “Please, follow us. I’m sure _our_ leader would like to see you with his own eyes.”

Kylo forced himself to let the dark energy at his fingertips subside. Orsaa turned and Lhuna followed him inside. Kylo gave one glance over his shoulder at his Knights, suggesting they should lower their weapons—not that he thought they would go unused—before he did the same.

The longhouse was dimly lit, and it was a degree or two warmer than outside. Probably because the embers of a fire glowed from an ash pit in the center of the room. There were benches carved from driftwood lining the walls, and the ones that weren’t occupied by leering Rakata—all adorned with armor which encased their torsos and not much else—looked shiny from use. A chimney in the low-hanging roof provided an outlet for smoke, and Kylo suspected it was used often because the whole room smelled of seared meat. Turning, his attention shifted to the other end of the room, drawn like a magnet, and his gaze immediately fell upon the One.

The Rakata couldn’t have been anyone else. He was sitting on one of the driftwood logs, but even then it was obvious he was larger than any of the rest. Like the others, he wore a fitted suit of armor encompassing his torso that protected his broad shoulders and left his muscular thighs bare; also like the others, he wore knee-high combat boots hewn from gundark hide, if Kylo had to guess. A deep burgundy cape was pinned to either shoulder and it pooled like blood on the floor around him. Most notably, a collar of bones hemmed his neck—to which species they belonged, Kylo had no idea—with each bone sharpened to a point, encrusted in diamonds and rubies. Yellow plasma light emanated from the halberd he held in his hand, the lethal glow outlining a razor-sharp blade.

“The last time we spoke to any of you, _Daritha,"_ said the One in a harsh tone, his Basic accent thicker than Orsaa’s, "was when that _Revan_ betrayed us for the Elders.” His voice was deep, reverberating off the walls; the rest of the hall fell entirely silent when he spoke.

“I don't care what the Sith did to you. I'm not a Sith, nor am I a Jedi,” Kylo replied.

“Are you not _Daritha_ Ren?” The One spoke it like a challenge.

“Lord Ren,” said Kylo. “Not Darth Ren. And you may refer to me as Supreme Leader.”

“Hm,” said the One. “The Sith have always presumed to rule over the galaxy.” He bent over low, one elbow resting on each knee, and his antenna eyes narrowed. “But if you are neither Sith nor Jedi, then we have no quarrel with you. In fact, I admire your strength in conquest. We have many... assets to gift you on your mission, if you desire them. I knew you would come.”

Kylo had never met any single species who was smart enough to join the stronger side so quickly. He looked over his shoulder to Yuzha, who inclined her head.

“That is very generous of you,” said Kylo, facing the One again. “I only need one thing: grant us access to the Temple of the Ancients.”

The One’s beady eyes grew even beadier, considering him heavily—though Kylo didn’t so much as blink. It was a long moment before he drew a breath to speak. “It’s been a very, _very_ long time since the Black Rakata have entered the ancient temple. And what might _Lord Ren_ need from the temple if he is neither Sith nor Jedi?”

“You’ll learn quickly not to ask questions,” said Kylo, as he felt the tremor in the Force from his Knights: Yuzha’s hand waited steadily on the hilt of her lightsaber. “I can’t say that my Knights and I have _enjoyed_ our time on your planet, and we’re eager to be on our way. The quicker you oblige, the easier things will be for both of us.”

“Naturally. Forgive me, Lord Ren, but as Keeper of the Temple I won’t give in so easily,” the One countered. Gesturing to his collar of bones and flashing a wicked, sharp-toothed smile he added, “I did not pick these off the beach, you know. They were earned. _All_ of this was earned.”

“I have no doubt,” Kylo replied, as cordially as he could.

Smirking in response, the Rakata called the One got up from his log and took a few paces forward to loom over Kylo. “There are other things in this world which must be earned. Trust... that comes to mind.” He started to circle Kylo, slow and steady, but Kylo remained firm where he stood. “Have you ever had your trust broken, Supreme Leader?”

Kylo closed his eyes, inhaling deep through his nostrils. He wasn’t going to think about that now. Not here. “I can’t say” was all he gave the Rakata in response.

“Ah.” The One stopped in his tracks, tucking his hands behind him. “So you understand. Then I hope you’ll also understand when I say”—he paused, leaned in close to Kylo’s ear, and whispered—“we don’t trust you.”

Too close. In a flash Kylo called his ‘saber to his hand and ignited it, gloved fingers closing tight around its hilt as he feinted to the right, then ducked away to the left. He pivoted on the balls of his feet to face the One, both hands gripping his weapon as he held it in front of him. Its hum and crackle resonated through the longhouse. Behind him, he heard the ignition of four lightsabers and felt the anticipation of his Knights in the Force, ready to strike upon his slightest command.

Kylo didn’t expect the Rakata to chuckle—or for it to cascade into all-out laughter, joined by the rest of the Black Settlement until the longhouse was filled with it. “Not a Sith, you say. What difference does it make, when I tasted your power the moment you made planetfall, when you brandish that weapon, its blade the color of fire and slaughter! You come here speaking of conquest and dare attempt to loot my temple, but you are _not a Sith!_ ” The Rakata roared, straightening to his full height. “I’ve heard of your conquests, foolish boy. Lothal is not far from here. You think this is the first time I’ve seen a blade like yours?” He hissed between his fangs, taking a threatening step closer. “I witnessed the birth and death of the empire it belonged to, and you will not make a fool out of me, _Kylo Ren!_ ”

Kylo’s hand shot out, reaching for the Rakata’s throat with an invisible grip. He didn’t expect the blast of rotten, dark-side energy the One blasted his way with a mirroring motion. He was able to catch most of it in his palm, but it still knocked him off his feet and sent his lightsaber tumbling out of his hand. He tumbled backwards in the dirt.

“Raise your hand to your Supreme Leader again and you will die,” Mahad threatened. He shuffled forward, putting himself between Kylo and the Rakata.

Lokka and Sobu braced themselves, back to back and facing the rest of the hall as Yuzha offered Kylo a hand. Kylo brushed it away before scrambling to his feet. Heat flooded his cheeks as he dusted the dirt from his robes, glaring to the One through the hair that had fallen into his eyes.

“Kill me, then,” the One said, both to Kylo and Mahad. He looked awfully proud of himself. “It should be easy for you. And then you will never enter the temple.”

“Mahad, stand down,” Kylo managed through clenched teeth. Then to the One he grit out, “How, then? How do we gain your trust?”

The One looked pointedly at Kylo’s lightsaber which lay several feet away, then at those of the others whose blades were pulsing red on their dark clothes. Kylo had no idea how strong the One was and how long he’d lived, but he wasn’t about to lose his only chance of entering the temple. Otherwise every moment on this wretched planet would have been a waste.

Kylo swiftly recalled his lost weapon and clipped it to his belt. Then he glanced at his Knights and gave them a hard nod. They understood and collapsed their blades. As they did, Kylo began to pay attention once more to the leering Rakata who filled the longhouse. He’d forgotten they were there; the galaxy had, just a moment ago, only focused on the One. All of the Black Rakata seemed ready to pounce and roast him for a meal.

The One grinned. “Good. Then tonight, you’ll join us for a celebration. I’d like to get to know my new Supreme Leader,” he said. “As I believe Orsaa told you, it’s not often we have company.”

 

 

The _celebration_ was miserable. At least for Rey it was, as she hid beneath her robes, mask, and pseudonym while the bonfire blazed in front of her and sweat trickled down her temples. She wanted nothing more than to leave. As Lokka had so kindly mentioned, _they didn’t need her anymore_ —but the jungle was dark and the road was long, and she didn’t feel safe without the Force. If anything happened during her journey... if something drew it out of her... Kylo would sense her in seconds and everything would come tumbling down.

She’d have to wait until morning.

Presently, she found herself sitting by herself on a log near the fire while the Knights of Ren unwound on the other side of the blaze. Rey did her best to ignore them. She did her best to ignore their master as well, but was less successful in that. It was so difficult not to watch as he played diplomat with the Rakata: back straight, brows furrowed and lips pressed to the rim of a drinking flute, which Rey suspected was filled with Lothalian currant wine, the last of its kind since the exports from Lothal had stopped coming. He sat across from the One on a wooden bench, but whether he was making small talk or discussing diplomacy, she wasn’t sure. Easily could have been either, considering his expression never changed. Even back then, he’d been too stoic, too controlled. But at _that_ time, it’d obviously been an act, a facade; she’d shaken him loose eventually. Now she wasn’t sure there was a person within those dark, embroidered robes at all.

Ashes drifted from the firepit towards the ceiling, caught on a draft that guided them up through the chimney and out into the night sky. Rey envied them. Free to go where they pleased, nobody hunting them or questioning them or wondering who they were. She shook her head. _What a ridiculous thought._ The heat had to be getting to her, and she had half a mind to run outside and throw herself into the waves.

Well, she was out of luck there. She’d still never learned to swim and even if she could, removing her mask was out of the question. Judging by the lack of sleeping quarters or privacy in the longhouse, it looked like she’d be wearing the damned thing to bed.

Rey drew her robes in tight, as if to shield herself from the leery Rakata who watched her and the Knights from every angle—when they weren’t gorging themselves on wine and meats, that is. Some glow panels lined the ceiling, but most of the light came from the fire, which was why she stayed close to it. Didn’t want to disappear in the dark.

She’d endured worse.

Rey sighed, biting back a fresh onslaught of tears. How she had any left to lose, she still wasn’t sure. She still hadn’t cried for Darr, either. She wouldn’t allow herself to until she was somewhere safe and secluded where nobody could see. Rey hadn’t known the Rakata long (or intimately for that matter) but the way she’d died had been so cold and cruel. No... the way she’d been _murdered_.

Rey’s gaze shifted across the bonfire to where the Knights of Ren were sprawled across the floor and against some of the logs. All of them had removed their helmets, lucky bloggins, and they all looked a little too relaxed given the circumstances. How were they able to move so simply from their first introduction to the One to _now_ , obviously enjoying themselves with food, alcohol, and liquor? Probably because they clearly weren’t strangers to this sort of thing; pillaging and threatening and the like.

Her eyes slid first to the one called Mahad Ren, who was leaned back against one of the driftwood benches, legs outstretched on the ground in front of him. He was cradling a flask. Rey could get a good look at him now that he’d taken off his mask like the rest of the Knights to have food and drink. His ochre skin gleamed with sweat, his black hair tied back in a loose knot atop his head and his brown eyes were lazy. His features were shallow: a broad nose, round cheeks and wide lips that eagerly greeted the flask’s mouth. He was probably the oldest of all of them. Thirty-five, maybe.

Next to him was Yuzha Ren, sitting on the log with her hands folded in her lap and she looked roughly Mahad’s age, maybe slightly younger. Her hairstyle was almost identical to his: black hair tied back in a bun, though Yuzha’s was neater. Her skin was a lighter tawny, drawn over sharp cheekbones and her dark, hooded eyes were taught and alert, whereas Mahad’s were crinkled at the edges and gave the impression of weariness.

Sobu Ren was off in a corner somewhere, having mentioned something about _needing some peace and quiet to work_ , but from what she’d seen of him he was just as pale as Kylo, though the angles of his face were much sharper and his ragged hair was the color of wheat. He looked young. Her own age, even.

And then there was _her_. The one who’d killed Darr: Lokka Ren. She couldn’t have been older than twenty. She acted it too, dancing around the fire with a bottle of Ithorian Mist in her hand. Where she’d gotten it, Rey had no idea. Lokka’s curly hair was the color of the flames, while her pale, freckled cheeks were tinted pink by the alcohol. Everything about her was _small_ , which said something coming from Rey; her features, her stature, her limbs— _everything_. The slightness of her almost gave the impression of weakness, but the truth was she was ruthless and unhinged, possibly the most murderous of all of them. Rey noted that if she ever found herself interlocked in a lightsaber battle with the Knights of Ren, she’d be sure to go for Lokka first.

It was almost physically painful trying not to watch Kylo as he stood from his bench and started back towards the fire. Being forced to remain in the _Supreme Leader’s_ presence under these miserable, Force-forsaken circumstances was quite possibly the most aching thing she’d ever had to endure. At least the knowledge that her parents were never coming back had held some note of finality, but _this_ … this was a mess of loose ends and broken promises and whispers of _what if_.

As terrible as he looked, joining his Knights on a piece of driftwood across the fire with his elbows on his knees, he still looked _so much_ like the person she’d known. Even now she felt herself drawn to him, felt herself wanting to cross the camp and sit next to him and beg him to come home. The thought drew the air from her lungs, twisted her gut and drove a knife right through her heart. There wasn’t a home to beg him to come home to anymore.

Rey could forget about the rest of the celebration just watching him; the noise of the other Rakata in the background faded away as she allowed herself for the first time for years to really, _really_ get a good look at Kylo.

He was still nursing a flute of wine between his large, pale hands, and staring into the fire with dead eyes—seemingly ignoring whatever Mahad grunted at him. The reflection of the blaze in Kylo’s eyes was the only life or heat she saw in his face. He definitely looked more like a shell than a man, and a chill crept down her spine at the notion that he really _was_ empty—that he’d somehow managed to hollow himself out of _Ben_ in her absence, along with any semblance of conscience or humanity.

He must have sensed her attention on him; he lifted his gaze in her direction and Rey cursed herself for not being more inconspicuous. She’d gotten lazy, taken the mask for granted. _You idiot_ , she scolded herself. He could plunge into her thoughts and know everything at any given moment.

Rey’s stomach threatened to fall out of her when Kylo stood again. She watched in horror as he made his way towards her, step by uneven step, and maybe it was the heat but when he sat down next to her her vision started to tunnel.

“Do you ever take that thing off?”

Rey flinched. She clenched her fists in her lap, desperate for something to hold onto.

“This is supposed to be a celebration,” he continued, albeit miserably, swirling his flute with one hand before downing a large sip. “I don’t think our hosts appreciate us looking poised for battle.”

Oh, no. It wasn't a good idea to start letting him hang around her. Her mind reeled for an excuse to get away, even though there was nowhere to go—or else she’d have gone there already. When her options came up empty, she resigned herself to simply talking and prayed that her disguise would carry her through.

“You wouldn't want to see what's under this mask, Supreme Leader,” she said quietly, ears straining for the sound of the modulator, hoping it was enough.

Kylo fell silent. Then, when she thought he'd had his fill, he started again. “You think yourself some sort of creature.” A smirk played on his lips. “I know the feeling.”

Rey tensed. “My Lord… I'm not certain why you're speaking with me of all people,” she said, silently praying that maybe he would move along to someone else. Kylo, though, didn't have an answer for her. He simply shrugged and lifted the flute to his lips once more. The currant wine was so dark it was almost black, and his lips were stained a darker tinge to match the circles under his eyes. He’d already had a fair amount of it, then. His throat bobbed when he swallowed it, and suddenly Rey was dizzier than before.

Once he'd sipped at his glass, he gestured with it and said, “Look at my Knights.”

Rey tilted her head after a moment, confused as to what he was getting at.

“They squabble like children over toys. Yuzha and Mahad have better heads on their shoulders, but Lokka and Sobu are… well.”

Disdainfully, Rey glanced back to Lokka who was now polishing her slugthrower and casually pointing it in every which direction when she turned to speak with Sobu, who’d reappeared. “She's insane,” Rey said before she could stop herself. After what she’d seen Lokka do to Darr she couldn’t help it. It made her sick. And some deep, dark part of her was desperate to know if he felt the same—if her behavior bothered him at all, and if he had any humanity left.

A low sound escaped him, something like a laugh and it shook Rey to the core. She’d never heard him laugh before; not in a genuine way at least. “I suppose,” Kylo replied. He looked redder in the face now, more than he was pale. Rey's eyes dragged to the now-empty flute in his large hand, dwarfed by the length of his fingers. “Kira, was it?”

“Yes,” she managed, looking away before adding, “Supreme Leader.”

“You see why I'd rather stay here and chat with a… creature in a mask,” he drawled, face going blank as if he were somewhere else, “and not with any of them.”

Rey looked back toward the Knights. Every one of them looked far healthier than Kylo, except for perhaps Sobu, who was skin and bones and a fright to look at in the glow of the firelight. Kylo sniffed and looked down to the blaze. Then, at once, he looked up and stared right at her. Straight into the mask.

“Not especially,” she choked in reply. _Please go, please leave me alone_.

He leaned forward. “How often do you visit the parts shop on Ll’awa Road?”

 _Huh?_ How had he managed to remember its name? She could _smell_ the alcohol on his breath as it wafted through her shafty mask.

“Erm,” she started, kicking herself for hesitating. “Not often. I’ve never owned much that needed servicing. Just a droid here or there,” she added breathily. It was a lie, but he seemed just dazed and languid enough to not bother himself with searching her mind for the truth. How much had he had?

“Gonk droids,” he said. His eyes crinkled and something flashed in them, but then it was gone. “Are you on familiar terms with the shopkeepers?” he pressed.

Rey’s blood ran cold. Did he know something? Had she given too much away when Darr had died? Still, his expression wasn’t scrutinizing. Rather, it was… somber. “Not really,” she said, the last word choked out as she gripped the fabric of her robes to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.

He glanced around his feet as if looking for another bottle. When he didn’t find one, he looked back at her with those dark, empty eyes and murmured, “I thought I recognized someone.”

“Oh?” Rey breathed, barely more than a whisper. Time was moving so, _so_ slowly.

Leaning forward on one of his knees with one hand tugging at his scalp, Kylo told her, “There was a girl in that Rakata’s mind.”

“Girl?” _Force._ How much had he seen? And did he know for a fact it was _her_? Her heart stuttered over a beat and she swallowed it down back to where it had jumped into her throat.

Kylo nodded, then set his flute down on a nearby stone and paused with a hard expression. “No. Forget I said anything.”

Rey’s words were stuck in her throat, but she managed a nod. She didn’t think he was even paying attention, though. Even as she remained silent as a statue, Kylo didn't move.

“Lokka,” he said finally, a little louder to catch her attention, and his Knight perked up across the fire.

“Yes, Master?” she replied, all-too-eager.

Kylo snatched his empty flute and held it out to her. “The Mist.”

Lokka’s eyes flashed, a devilish expression twisting her features as she danced over the firepit with the bottle in hand. She fulfilled Kylo’s request, serving him a heavy pour before stopping to look at Rey. It took everything in Rey not to shrink away from Lokka’s gaze—a gaze so penetrating and naive all at once, much like a child’s. After a long, hard look and a wondering glance at her master, the youngest Knight flitted back across the way to harass Sobu and Yuzha.

In the light of the fire, Kylo’s sunken cheeks seemed more severe, more fatigued. His darkened lips were downturned, watching the way his own fingers loosely held the glass in his hands. A soft sigh escaped from his nose. “I… might have had too much to drink,” he murmured, tilting another sip of Mist back anyway.

Rey swallowed. Warning signals rattled her brain. He’d never struck her as a drinker, or someone who could stand to lose control. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the night. _Get out of here_ , her instincts screamed.

She was about to make an excuse to run to the ‘fresher if he’d even let her when he said, “Of course you wouldn’t know her.”

Rey opened her mouth, then shut it, frowning to herself. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said. Then her throat caught again, threatening to break the last syllable that left her mouth.

He looked down to his fingers holding the flute. The fringe of hair that had rested on his brow slipped and fell into his eyes. Instead of a merciless conqueror, he was just a tall, sad, exhausted man. “I know,” he said, downing the last of the flute’s contents. “I was only hoping you did, but she’s dead. I should be used to it by now.” A lifeless, self-loathing smile turned the corners of his lips upwards.

 _Why would you hope that?_ thought Rey desperately, regarding the way Kylo blinked the fringe drowsily from his eyes. He’d been the one who’d ordered the attack on both Crait and Malastare, _knowing_ she was there with the Resistance. It was _his_ military that’d murdered her friends and millions of others, seizing control of the galaxy. How could he even _think_ to hope that she might still be alive?

Despite herself, she felt the tears leaking from her eyes as memories from that moment came unbidden to her. It had been chaos, from the moment the base’s alarms had sounded to the moment she’d stayed behind with Leia, trying to shield the children, when the walls caved in and the world exploded with fire. The last thing she did was wrench herself from the Force in hopes she might not become a lure, and she did so thread by binding thread, the pain of it worse than the injuries she'd sustained when she came to hours later. Three fractured ribs, a concussion, both her ankles broken nearly beyond repair.

Nothing topped the pain of waking up alone.

Everyone had perished. Leia, in her attempt to evacuate the doomed planet, before staying behind to shield those who’d waited too long. Poe, in his last-ditch effort to defend whatever had remained of the fleet, overzealous as he’d always been. All of those kids, a tangle of charred limbs and stolen futures, never to see peace or democracy restored to the galaxy. Finn, Rose, gone in the wreckage and explosions of transports, along with anyone else who’d lasted long enough to attempt escape.

And then there was her: the sole survivor, rent from the Force and clawing her way out of the the mud, wondering where everything had gone wrong.

In her silence, Kylo made a noise in the back of his throat. “It doesn’t matter.” He straightened, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I think I need help walking. Can you bring me Mahad?”

Relieved, she looked up to do as he asked, but Mahad was passed out against his log across the bonfire, flask still between his palms. Lokka was peering over Sobu’s shoulder while he tapped on his datapad, and Yuzha was peerlessly wiping her helmet of Darr’s dried blood. None of the Black Rakata seemed to be hanging around them—out of admiration or disdain, Rey wasn’t sure. She saw no imminent threat to the Knights’ lives, with most of the Rakata slipping into stupors of food and drink, and even if there were a threat Rey was certain that Yuzha would have it all taken care of before the One could command them to stop. Rey swallowed and looked away, back to Kylo.

“Mahad’s asleep.” Rey nodded toward the Knights.

Kylo let out a long breath. “Yuzha, then. Wait,” he started, grabbing her wrist when she stood. Rey’s heart leaped back into her throat. Stars, she was lucky she hadn’t taken her gloves off. They made the contact marginally more bearable. “I’ll make do.” He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Just help me up.”

If it had been at any other time—when he _wasn’t_ getting through however many glasses of that Lothalian currant wine and Ithorian Mist—she was sure he wouldn’t have let the look on his face slip out in public. He looked scared, likely at the thought of his Knights seeing him so… so….

It reminded her of that day. In the throne room, onboard the Supremacy.

 _Please_ , he’d begged.

 _What’s happened to you?_ she thought, bewildered. Here he sat before her, deep in his cups and ashamed, afraid, regretful; the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He seemed so much _less_ than he had back then, and yet he had so much more. It was… pitiful, for lack of a better word.

Every warning in Rey’s head told her more time spent with him would only yield suspicion, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet. She offered him a hand.

He took it. Despite his drunken state, his grip was firm, his fingers curling around hers. Rey hadn’t drank anything, but suddenly she felt as if she might spew. It was only with hard-clenched teeth and a thundering heart that she managed to pull him up from his seat on the log.

She never expected him to lean into her, or for him to wrap a heavy arm around her shoulders while he found his footing. Rey’s knees threatened to buckle, and not from the weight of supporting him. It was only when stars crossed her vision that she noticed she was holding her breath. Tepidly, she touched a hand to his ribs. “Good?” she asked, voice small.

Kylo nodded and dropped his arm from her, which much to Rey’s dismay left her whole being aching with the absence of him. He walked slower with cautious steps, and to the regular eye he wouldn’t have looked as affected as he clearly was to her. The ticks were obvious, almost glaringly so, in the way his cheeks tightened with effort and his eyes were dark with fatigue. She cast a wary glance over the Rakata, trying to determine without drawing suspicion whether or not they could see his inebriation and within it, an opportunity. The thought of one of them ambushing him in such a state turned her insides to coiled ropes.

She followed him out of the longhouse onto the beach. It was a short walk to the residential quarters from where they were celebrating, or whatever the One had deemed to call it. Rey maintained a cautious two steps behind Kylo, doing her best to look casual, like she was merely finding her way to bed too. At some point he stumbled over his tabard and she almost leaned over, on instinct, to keep him from tumbling down—but he straightened and grit his teeth together, reaching over to the blast door of his temporary quarters. It peeled apart quickly and Kylo leaned heavily against the threshold before he turned around.

“Thank you,” he said, voice thick and eyes hazy. “Yuzha will see that you are compensated tomorrow.” He stood still for a moment, watching her through hooded eyes.

Rey bowed her head, more so she didn’t have to meet his gaze than out of respect for his title. With that, he left her on the threshold of his chamber and disappeared inside. The door slipped shut behind him and she was left alone with her thoughts. No Rakata, no Knights, no First Order. Just the dark.

She sighed and stepped away, pausing on the beach halfway between the longhouse and the residences. The Knights were still there from what she could tell. The only one who had left was Kylo. Rey debated to herself if she could step aside and take the mask off, if only for a brief respite and some fresh air—then decided against it, calculating the risks and potential consequences. Just a little longer; she could do it.

Rey pulled her hood down further over her mask. _I should just find a place to sleep._ She’d leave at first dawn.

 

If Kylo had ever learned control, he would have packed Rey away into some small corner of his mind and stopped thinking about her entirely.

But he hadn’t, and so he wouldn’t, and in the shadows of the temporary quarters he’d been given he sat on the bed and held his head in his hands. It’d been a long time since he’d let himself slip this much. He never normally allowed himself any sort of drink for this exact reason: falling into this pit of loathing and regrets, the same horror show scrolling through his head, of Rey being pitched back into nothingness upon his command. He’d stared numbly through the viewport for a solid minute as it’d happened, watching but not seeing as Hux’s dreadnoughts wreaked havoc on Malastare. Seconds later the wrenching pain hit like a bludgeon to his mind, a hole blown through him where she used to be. He’d collapsed to the floor while the silence spread from his head to his aching limbs, all through his being until there was nothing left but _empty_. He’d had no words, even as his pilot demanded orders. Even as General Hux had delivered a successful report back to him, citing the Resistance as completely decimated.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d received a report that the Millennium Falcon had been confiscated on Chandrila no more than a standard basic day before. How could she have left? She couldn’t afford a transport. She had nothing.

He hadn’t moved. The bond had flooded his senses at the last second— _her_ senses. His eardrums had exploded with the _boom_ of artillery, his eyes blinded by cannon fire while sweat dripped down the back of his neck. The scent of blood and smoke in the air had been overwhelming; even now, he could smell it. Hux’s fleet had descended upon them. There she was, right in front of his feet, holding a hand out to an invisible person before her head spun to face an unseen enemy.

Then her eyes had wrenched shut. Her body lurched backward. Her feet snapped under her legs. And that was it.

She’d winked out of the bond like she’d never been there at all.

Kylo felt it then and he felt it now after how many fucking years of attempting to block it out. The bond had never reopened and he’d never seen her again. She was gone. Dead. Never coming back.

He stared at the floor under his feet. It blurred over as he blinked wetly at it, even though the tears would never fall. If only he hadn’t looked in that damned Rakata’s head. He’d convinced himself in that split second the girl had been Rey, fully knowing it couldn’t have been, and yet he’d allowed it to drive him to glass after glass of the wine.

 _I don’t know who you’re talking about_ , the guide had told him earlier. Those words made him ache more than they should have. They’d thrown him off. He was supposed to be gaining the One’s trust, gaining access to the temple so he could gut it and destroy it and move on from this Force-forsaken planet. Instead, he’d hardly listened as the Black Rakatan leader had interrogated him about his past, about his hopes for the galaxy and what he would do for Rakata Prime. He’d barely managed to nibble at the Mimn’yet flanks the Rakata had prepared for him, and throughout the whole conversation he’d hardly offered more than a necessary nod or quip. More than likely he’d have to start all over tomorrow, and all because he couldn’t get it through his fucking head that she was dead and gone. Ironic, considering he may as well have pulled the trigger himself.

He tucked himself onto the bed, fully clothed and dully watching the blast door on the other side of his quarters. _A creature in a mask._ He’d said that. What a peculiar thing to say….

Kylo frowned slightly.

There were small, hazy thoughts in his mind that he couldn’t seem to put together, and he was too exhausted to latch onto a single one to think it through. For the first time in however long, his eyes slipped shut and a deep breath left his nose as he finally descended into a light, dazed slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were going to be character sheets for the knights in this one, but they'll be coming in the next chapter. hope you guys enjoyed it! we always love your feedback <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains some explicit depictions of violence. thanks for reading!

“I received a transmission this morning... from the Outer Rim,” Celede said in a hushed voice, leaning over her bowl of noodles. They were sitting in Rose’s favorite booth at the only noodle shop on this side of their quadrant, tucked away in a corner of the bustling Coruscanti underworld. Neon lights from signs flickered over threadbare tarps, their glow muted by a thick fog of toxic fumes which blanketed the planet’s lowest level. Once, the place was thought uninhabitable; now it was treasured by those who wanted to slip beneath the First Order’s radar. That, or buy counterfeit goods.

Rose eyed her own dish with an aching stomach, giving the onions and phazik meat a stir before she lifted a helping of the Corellian buckwheat noodles to her mouth with her spoon and slurped. “And?” she managed with a full mouth.

“There’s talk of a populist uprising on Lothal. Know how imports have gotten more expensive, and some stuff’s stopped coming at all?” Celede lead on, rubbing sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She was still wearing her utility suit from the engineering shop, as was Rose; the First Order insignia was embroidered over both their breasts. A dark brown braid hung over Celede’s shoulder and her tan, rounded cheeks were smudged with grease.

“Yeah, I saw that.” Rose nodded to Celede with a gulp. Her eyebrows knit together, mirroring the sinking sensation in her gut. “They’ve made it that far?”

Celede gave her a dark-eyed, sympathetic look, pursing her thin lips. “Weeks ago. Rumor has it they’ve made it as far as Rakata Prime. Anyways, they _did_ something to the place. I don’t know what, but the way I heard it described, it sounds like the planet’s… dying. All the fields have withered away. There’s no grass for the livestock. Even the water’s drying up.”

“What?” Rose’s spoon slipped from her fingers. It landed in her bowl with a _clank_. “How’s that possible?”

Celede shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know how it happened, only that there’s massive unrest. People are dying,” she whispered.

Rose looked down at her soup. Her appetite was gone. “Finn saw what they did to the Hosnian System. Why bother drawing it out like that? Why not just blast the place?” She hated the sound of the words as they left her mouth, but there was no other way to put it. That was what the First Order _did_.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Celede shook her head once before hunching over her noodles, scooping the rest of them into her mouth.

“Lothal had some of the best farmland in the Galaxy,” Rose said, thinking out loud with a frown. “Why would they do that?”

Celede pushed her empty bowl to the center of the small, wooden table. “Maybe they didn’t mean to? Or maybe they want to starve us. I don’t know. Either way, something’s gotta give.”

“Did your source give you any details about the rebellion? How many bodies they have? Any ships? Do you think they stand a chance?” Rose couldn’t help the slew of questions. Rebelling was practically unheard of. As far as she knew, nobody had tried it since… since….

Her nostrils stung, accompanied by the sensation of a hand closing over her heart.

Celede looked down at her lap. Quietly, she said, “Do any of us?”

Rose reached for the crescent-shaped pendant around her neck, out of instinct more than anything else. The metal was cool beneath her fingertips as she sat there in silence, searching for an answer. Truth was, she didn’t have one—but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hope. She was still here. She still had Finn. Not _everything_ was lost.

She glanced back up to meet Celede’s defeated gaze. “You don’t know anything else?”

Celede shook her head. “No, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

 

It had taken effort and organization, but finally they had all been subdued, if a bit loud and ornery about the whole ordeal. Rakata Prime’s capital city and the surrounding regions had been conquered, marking another successful run for General Hux, who had managed to put the Supreme Leader out of his mind as other officers submitted their logs for the Rakata and all the other beings on the planet, now registered within the First Order’s records.

Until, of course, Captain Canady—without his own fleet and stuck with Hux—informed him that Supreme Leader Ren had disappeared with his Knights for more than a standard basic day with no directive to follow. Standing on the bridge of the _Judicator_ , Hux narrowed his eyes and glared down at Rakata Prime through the massive viewport—as if he might be able to spot Ren’s whereabouts if he squinted hard enough.

“And his tracker? Is it checking in?” demanded Hux, glowering ahead of him.

“It’s been disabled, General,” Captain Canady replied with a furrowed brow.

A mirthless smile tugged the corners of Hux’s mouth upwards. “Yes, of course it has,” he replied more to himself than Captain Canady as cold rage seeped into his veins. Casting a sidelong glance at Canady, he added, “The Knights as well?”

Captain Canady’s eyes held steadfast on Hux, completely unintimidated by how Hux’s jaw clenched. “The Knights as well.”

“Naturally.” Hux turned back to the viewport. “Bring me the coordinates of that temple, Captain. And have a transport prepared. It appears I’ll have to go and collect Ren myself.”

Canady’s lips drew downward. “Of course, _General_.” He turned to make a swift exit from the bridge. Hux listened to his steps fade away, but his eyes were plastered on the viewport, thoughts hanging on whatever massive mistake Ren was likely making now. It would only be a matter of time, of course, before everything went up in flames for Ren. As always, Hux would have to be patient.

 

Surprisingly, Kylo had managed to get in several hours of sleep, no matter how fitful they were. It had been such a long time since he’d had any sleep at all, opting instead to keep himself awake and aware of his surroundings in case anyone were to attempt to remove him prematurely from his throne. But now, in quiet, dark chambers on Rakata Prime and isolated from the _Judicator,_ he’d become loose enough to shut his eyes and drift off.

It had to have been the drinks. It was a reasonable explanation, but the thought of it brought back aching thoughts of Rey and he began to scowl to himself. At this rate, he’d never even get through the morning without wanting to lock himself in this barren room to escape it all.

Kylo remembered with a start to tell Yuzha to transfer over their guide’s credits from the previous night. Just as he stood on heavy, lead-filled legs and wrapped his cowl around his neck, there was a voice outside the door of his temporary chambers. “Master,” said Yuzha, ever the one to wake at the crack of dawn no matter the planet. “The One is ready for our departure to the temple.”

He’d almost forgotten about that insolent Rakatan tribe leader. Kylo grit his teeth at the notion. _Careless_. He’d let his priorities slip his mind again. That needed to stop, immediately.

“Let’s get this over with,” he snapped just as the blast door slipped open, revealing Yuzha fully dressed in all her armor, helmet clasped seamlessly over her head. A humid ocean breeze swept into his chambers, ruffling the edges of his cowl, and he said, “Where are the others?”

According to Yuzha, Lokka was still holding a grudge against Mahad, and the latter was ignoring both her and Sobu until Kylo arrived with an objective for them. They were all ready to go, waiting with the One and other Rakata; apparently, Kylo had slept the longest—though judging by the pale fingers of morning light that stretched across the sky and the tolerable air temperature, it was just before daybreak. The thought niggled at the back of his head annoyingly. If he hadn’t succumbed to the drinks the previous night, he wouldn’t feel so dissociated now. It wouldn’t happen again.

By the time they reached the longhouse where the rest of the Knights were waiting, Kylo’s head had cleared somewhat. The room was empty save for him and his Knights… and the One, tailed by Orsaa and Lhuna, the two who had greeted them yesterday when they’d first arrived at the settlement. He didn’t care to know where the other Rakata went during the day.

Sobu saw them first. “Master!” he crowed, immediately barreling toward Kylo. He pulled out his datapad. “I’ve already set up the credit transfer for the guide from yesterday, Master, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget,” said Kylo coldly.

“Give it here,” Yuzha told Sobu, who handed his datapad over. She worked at the screen for a small moment, scouring through the logs that had been put together over the past couple days as the citizens were entered into the First Order database. As she did so, Kylo looked past the other Knights to the One, who was watching him with beady black eyes.

“The guide’s name is Kira?” Yuzha’s voice recalled Kylo’s attention. His eyes switched back over to his Knights.

“Yes. Yes, it’s Kira.” Sobu nodded fervently, wringing his hands together.

“I don’t see a Kira in our records,” Yuzha said without looking up from the datapad.

Sobu chanced a look at Lokka, who was still glaring at Mahad. “Lokka heard her say ‘Kira’ yesterday when she was being logged.” He leaned forward on his heels to peer at the screen in Yuzha’s hands.

“Is it short for something?” Yuzha asked Sobu.

“How would he know if it’s short for something?” Kylo interjected, tired of this exchange. A headache had started to pound behind his eyes. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he said, “We only met the girl yesterday.”

“Either she hasn’t been logged in the First Order Databank, or her name isn’t Kira,” said Yuzha, leaning on one leg with a gloved hand on her hip.

Sobu straightened and tapped his fingers together in a jitter. “Perhaps that _Hux_ hasn’t managed to sync yesterday’s records to our Databank yet,” he suggested; his tone betrayed his hope that Kylo would agree with his distaste of Hux, but even Kylo knew Hux would rather die than make such a trivial mistake.

Yuzha shoved the datapad back to Sobu. “Go sort this out.”

Sobu started, then looked at Kylo for his permission. “ _Go,_ ” Yuzha repeated, and Sobu took the datapad before bowing his head and muttering, “Of course.”

Regardless of what Sobu had said, Kylo didn’t have time to think about lapses in Hux’s records; he’d deal with that later if that were the case. Instead he stepped away from Yuzha toward the Black Rakatan leader. “Your celebration yesterday was revealing,” Kylo started, keenly observing how the One’s eyes slitted in response. With thin lips, he added, “For both parties, I’m sure.”

“Very revealing,” said the One in Basic. “But the purpose _was_ to get to know each other, was it not? _I_ believe it worked.”

“So you’ll do your part, then.”

“I suppose,” the One said good-naturedly. Then he grinned, all pointed yellow teeth. “If you do your part.” He didn’t say any more than that, instead opting to turn away with enough mystery to make Kylo grind his teeth together behind closed lips. A guard of Rakata came from outside the longhouse to flank them as they started down the shore towards the Temple of the Ancients.

 

Rey had hardly slept at all. Unlike Kylo, she hadn’t been given a personal suite for the night, and neither had his comrades; rather than cozy up with the Knights of Ren in the longhouse, she’d opted to sleep on the beach. She’d curled up along a smooth, sea-worn boulder that was lodged in the sand well above the tide’s most recent deposits of kelp and seaweed. The mask was tight and constricting, the seaside air too humid and when dawn broke above the shoreline to stir her from sleep, she felt like she’d only just closed her eyes.

Just as she pushed herself upright, a salt hawk swept onto the beach a few paces away from her, making Rey jump as it landed in a whirl of white feathers and wings. It cried out twice—a shrill, gutteral sound that split the air—before snatching a white shell in its talons and pecking it with its sharp beak. It was only a second before the predator wrangled the shellfish out and gulped it down. The sight of it reminded her that it had been more than a full day since she’d eaten anything at all, or worse, since she’d even had a sip of water. With all the adrenaline from yesterday, she’d been focused on getting away from Kylo and the Knights… and she’d forgotten to take care of herself for fear of taking off her mask.

It seemed to hit Rey all at once, the thirst and pang of hunger. Ravenous, she quickly cast an eye out for anyone along the beach, but it was deserted as far as she could tell.

The salt hawk hopped along the sand several times, kicking pebbles around its talons as it did, until it found another white shell. Rey peered around it; two more white shells littered the shore, so she fumbled toward them, eager to pry them open.

Motion in the far distance stilled her hand. Moving away from the longhouse and toward the jungle were several figures, clearly a crowd of both Rakata and the Knights, but she could pick out Kylo’s silhouette anywhere. She waited, breath hitched, until she was sure they wouldn’t see her—her fingers curled around the first white shell before she darted back to her spot behind the boulder.

Wrenching a water-worn rock from the sand, she pried the shell open and tilted her mask up until she could slide the shellfish into her mouth. It was far too salty, but it would satiate her for now until she could get back to the port. Rey wiped her mouth unceremoniously with her hand, eyeing the second white shell several steps away from her hungrily. She licked her lips, arched forward—

“Kira!” a voice called—a human, modulated voice.

Rey jerked around and slammed her mask back down to cover her mouth, grasping for her satchel. Her heart leaped into her throat. _They should have been gone by now!_ But of _course_ they weren’t. What was she still _doing_ here, getting comfortable and forgetting everything that had happened yesterday? She scrambled in the sand to her feet. The salt hawk leaped into the air, beating its wings several times before disappearing into the morning sky.

“Kira!” the voice called again, closer.

She now recognized it as Sobu Ren, though his pitch was higher than normal. The initial terror vanished, but the tightness in her stomach remained. What could he possibly want from her? The last thing she needed was engagement with the Knights of Ren. If she stayed put maybe he wouldn’t notice her; his voice was coming from farther inland anyway, back towards the settlement. For a second her plan seemed to work.

He was muttering to himself, little things she couldn’t hear quite properly, but the modulator was amplifying all of it no matter how incomprehensible they were. Then he said, “Is that you, Kira?” and Rey’s spine stiffened. Footsteps followed his words, coming closer as he thudded through the sand. Sobu circled the boulder to appear in front of her, gripping his datapad as always.

 _Of course_ , she thought with a grimace. Life force detection software. She was thankful he couldn’t see her face. Trying to act casual, she tossed the white shell in her hand out to the water.

“Ah. Kira! There you are, finally,” Sobu said. He brought the datapad uncomfortably close to his face, hunched over it. “Your presence at the longhouse was sorely missed yesterday evening.”

Rey doubted he meant it. Her other hand was still wrapped in a death grip around her satchel, in case he’d seen her eat and brought up anything about it.

After a beat, his head rose and his mask stared straight at her in silence. It proceeded that way for several more moments before his head slowly cocked to the side, as if wondering what she was doing sprawled out on the beach. “Did you sleep out here?”

“I prefer it,” Rey said, clearing her throat. “Grew up around sand.”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate,” Sobu replied. He sounded like he was scowling behind his mask.

She forced herself to shrug.

“Master says I’m supposed to compensate you. Yuzha tried to transfer the compensation to your credit account, but you’re not showing up in our Databank.” He hunched back over his datapad, muttering to himself all over again. The words “hurry” and “left behind” escaped him. She got the impression he didn’t want to be here. At all.

Aside from that, though, was the more pressing issue: her fake name wasn’t bringing up a single account they could transfer credits to at all. They hadn’t logged Darr into their Databank either, since Darr had lived out all the way in the jungle, but it was the only thing Rey could think of saying. “Try ‘Darr’ instead,” said Rey. Sobu double-checked the spelling but shook his head quickly when the screen on his datapad came up empty.

He huffed, standing up straight again. “Alright. Do not lie. Master will know everything that happens here.” Sobu waved his datapad at her. “What’s your real name?”

“Kira,” Rey told him. “Check your logs again. I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes a few days for everyone to be properly recorded.”

Sobu didn’t answer her; the visor of his helmet seemed to scrutinize her every move.

“How’s this?” she began, vying for some time. “You can check with your Master—er, Supreme Leader Ren—and he can come ask me himself. No one can hide anything from him, right?” Of course she’d be long gone by the time _that_ ever happened.

“You are not wrong,” Sobu agreed slowly. “And that should work just fine. Master would be very pleased to have this all over with. However,” he added, and Rey felt her stomach drop, “Master is occupied, and so are all of the other Knights. Master is very busy.” His chest inflated with pride. “I’ve been entrusted with getting all of this sorted out. You’ll have to accompany me back to Master so it can be done so efficiently and with the least inconvenience to Master as possible.”

He sounded like a child, unable to speak a whole complete sentence without mentioning Kylo in some form or another. Rey’s jaw clenched under her mask. She’d just made the whole situation worse on herself. She was supposed to be getting _away_ from them!

“No.” The word left Rey’s mouth before she really had time to think about the implications, but she meant it. She was absolutely not going to let this little lemming drag her back to his master.

Sobu froze. “No? Did you say ‘no’, you won’t see Master?” His tone was incredulous, but Rey wasn’t afraid of him.

She straightened, finding that when she did she was nearly at his eye-level. “I have other places to be, if you don’t mind. I don’t need the credits if they’re going to cause such tremendous issue.”

It was a lie. She _did_ need them. Not immediately, but she would. General Organa’s sum wouldn’t last forever, and it certainly couldn’t finance any sort of resistance against the First Order. More than she needed the credits though, she needed to put as many parsecs as she could between herself and the Supreme Leader, and _fast_. Rey didn’t need the Force to know her luck would run out soon.

“Oh no. No, I told Master you’d be paid. I _promised_. Master’s counting on me.” Sobu’s breath hitched on the last bit, as if someone had put a blaster to his temple. Rey cast a wary glance towards the lightsaber clipped to his belt. This one was erratic, and she got the sense her window of opportunity to leave was closing.

“Tell him I’ll come back later, then,” she said carefully. She wouldn’t, of course.

Sobu tilted his head, then leaned in closer as if to examine her. “How come you’re not telling the truth?”

Rey’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“You’re lying! You want me to lie to Master,” Sobu replied, a whispered blasphemy. He dropped the datapad in the sand and reached for his lightsaber with both hands.

Taking a few steps back, Rey said, “No, no. That’s not it. Please just listen to me. I need to return to town. There are people counting on me for supplies—I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.”

“A lie!” Sobu cried, igniting the blade and causing a flurry of sandfleas to lift off a nearby pile of dried reeds. Rey swatted them out of her face and pivoted on her heel, giving in to her instinct to run. She took off, knowing she was faster than him. She surely weighed less, and judging by his ungainly carriage she’d wager General Organa’s entire fortune she was better at running across sand.

It was then that Rey noticed them: the half-dozen Rakata clad in black battle armor, emerging from the treeline and making their way towards the shore. They were looking straight at her, and there was murder in their eyes.

Rey stopped, ducking beneath a cascading swing of Sobu’s blade. “Look!” she hissed, pointing at the Rakata.

Much to her surprise, Sobu actually did. His weapon hand fell to his side, blade still ignited. “Are you looking for Master?” he called to the approaching Rakata as they passed through the patchy seagrass onto the beach. “Master went to the Temple. I’ll be following him soon, you can follow me.”

The Rakata didn’t say anything. They kept approaching, eyeing the pair like food. If nothing else, Rey knew a predator when she saw one—and she knew when she was prey.

“Sobu,” Rey whispered, pausing as she struggled for something to say. Then she grimaced. “Get ready” was all she managed. She glanced over her left shoulder, then her right. There was nowhere to run. The Rakata had split to surround where she and Sobu stood on the beach, half of them approaching their either flank. The tide lapped at their heels.

Her heart began to thunder against her ribs. Salty air stung her nostrils even through her mask. Humid beads of sweat dripped down her temples as the sun rose into the cloudless sky, leaving pink streaks of dawn behind.

“If you’d like to speak with Master, I’m happy to relay a message. I’ll be returning to Master soon,” Sobu said again, and Rey couldn’t tell if he was nervous or if the shake in his words was just part of his typical demeanor.

Their company leered back, all teeth and eyes and muscle. What did they _want?_ Clearly, they wanted a fight, but Rey didn’t know why, nor did she think it would be wise to ask. And Rey wasn’t confident about her melee skills without a weapon. She’d almost always had some sort of weapon to rely on, and hadn’t fought much without one. She could throw a good punch, but her knuckles would be useless against Rakatan battle armor. It was some of the best in the Galaxy.

A harsh gust of wind rushed past her, whistling through her mask like some sort of ghost—only it wasn’t wind. Rey staggered backward slightly in surprise. It was the Force, a wave of raw Force power that slammed into Sobu’s chest and sent him tumbling backwards into the waves. A moment later and Rey realized through her shock that he was crying out in pain. One of the Rakata to her right stood with his palm outstretched in the Knight’s direction.

She gaped as Sobu scampered clumsily to his feet, bounding from the shallows of the tide like a nexu and calling his lightsaber to his hand from where it’d fallen on the beach. “Master will KILL YOU!” he screamed, igniting the blade again as he charged to the three Rakata on his right.

Rey had let herself be distracted too long. One of the Rakata on her left started towards her, and she barely managed to duck and slip between his sprawling legs. _Move, MOVE!_ The thought kicked her into motion as he lunged at her in an attempt to tackle her to the ground. Instead, he landed hard in the sand, the tremor of it shaking through Rey’s feet.

She had to find something to fight with. Spotting a piece of rotting driftwood steps away, she kicked it up with her boot and snapped it in half over her knee. The Rakata knelt on the sand, struggling to lift himself up to his feet—Rey just managed to spear him through his antenna eye before he stood.

The sounds of another Rakata charging toward her kicked her into motion. Eyes darting frantically for higher ground, Rey bolted for the treeline. She was fast. She could make it—she _had_ to. It didn’t matter if she left Sobu—he was only going to sell her out to his _Master_ anyway. Lungs burning, she dodged sea debris and boulders as she fled.

Instinctively, she glanced over her shoulder as she reached the edge of the beach. One of the Rakata was just behind her, slower as she’d predicted but too close. Sobu was fighting three at once, a lopsided whirl of red and black that seemed simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. He seemed to have landed at least one hit, because one of the Rakata was clutching their side.

Threads of guilt tugged at Rey’s heart. He was pretty awful, not much better than a womp weasel. Rey wasn’t sure if it was the sand or if he’d just managed to live so far through luck and blind devotion to Kylo. If she left him he’d die. She swallowed hard as an image of the Rakata devouring his slain corpse flashed through her mind. It wasn’t right.

Starting off again, Rey rounded a wide arc across the beach to outpace the Rakata trailing her as she made her way back towards the water. She glanced at Sobu just in time to see him Force Rend one of his opponents in half, and Rey thought she might be sick—both from the sight and the overwhelming presence of dark side energy in the air. Even without a connection to the Force, her body responded to the change in atmosphere. It was a terrible sight, the Rakata’s body split in two, yellow-tinted flesh leaking dark colored blood and the creature’s innards strewn across the sand. But there wasn’t any time to gawk at it. Two more of the Rakata, including the one she’d speared through the eye, were stalking towards her.

Something hit her in the gut. Something cold and powerful and draining—the Rakata’s Force power. One of them held his hand outstretched towards her, and he was _pulling_ , like he held a rope and she was helplessly attached to the other side. It was so _cold_. Too cold, much colder than humid, temperate Rakata Prime should have been. Rey collapsed to her knees, hardly noticing how sharp edges of shells pierced through her trousers to her skin.

He was draining her life force.

“Agh—Sobu,” she said, more of a croak than anything else. He didn’t hear her. “S-Sobu Ren,” she said again, panting, feeling her limbs stutter as the cold dissipated through her entire body.

The Rakata were coming closer. Blearily, she wondered what was happening, and how they’d turned on them with no explanation at all. But she couldn’t think on it for too long—black spots started to cloud the edges of Rey’s vision. She’d sustained no wounds, nothing visible at least, but it was like she was bleeding out on the beach. The wind left her lungs, and the Rakata were encroaching. Two in front of her, one behind.

Her skin ached. Rey gasped, heaving through the numbness of it. As if holo static were filling her vision, she felt like she was disintegrating piece by piece. Her face collided with the sand and grains of it slipped through her modulator, nicking her throat as she wheezed.

Through the obstructive visor on her mask, Rey barely caught sight of Sobu. A blow to Sobu’s head had left him maskless, his pale face moving like the moon above her. Harried streaks of red cut through Rey’s fading vision, angry pulsing light that flashed and twirled but never really _hit_. It seemed to take forever.

For a moment, the beach went dark as Rey’s vision slipped away. There was a sound, an insane holler, and the scent of burning flesh. Rey’s breath hitched, hoping for the ice in her gut to disappear—

And then it did.

She gasped.

Air filled her lungs, just as a Rakata’s body hit the ground in front of her—the one who’d held her with the Force. Sobu had landed a blow to his shoulder, his blade leaving a charred gash all the way to the Rakata’s abdomen. Rey’s eyes shot to him, only to have her attention snatched a second later by an object careening through the sky. An Upsilon-class shuttle, the First Order’s no doubt, and it was headed in the direction of the temple….

Rey’s heart stopped.

She’d been distracted for a second, but a second was all it took. The Rakata Sobu had wounded twisted upwards from his spot on the ground, reaching for the back of Sobu’s collared throat with a clawed, amphibious hand. He made contact, and Rey heard herself scream a word of warning in terror, but she—she was _too late_ —

The Rakata’s claws pierced Sobu’s clothing and skin, down to his arteries judging from the spurts of blood that trickled over the Rakatan warrior’s knuckles. Sobu went limp in his attacker’s hands. His plasma blade collapsed, the ‘saber’s hilt dropping to the ground. The Rakata’s fingered tongue shot out to his knuckles, lapping at Sobu’s blood, and Rey dry-heaved into the sand.

 _Get up_ , a voice in her head commanded. She knew that voice. Her instincts. The ones that’d kept her alive in the desert for years, where primal needs reigned and the rule of law was little more than a formality.

Rey reached for Sobu’s hilt, a simple thing that was better put together than Kylo’s, but still shoddy and poorly kept. Her fingers closed around cool metal.

A second later, she ignited it. The sensation ran through her fingers and lit straight into her core.

Scrambling to her feet, she swung the blade overhead toward the Rakata who’d held Sobu only moments ago. The blade sank through his bloody arm and the Rakata howled, staggering away as his limb fell to the ground. Rey blocked out the noise; she didn’t put any thought into how she thrust the blade downwards into the warrior, piercing his skull, knowing that it was either die at the hands of the Rakata or escape by the skin of her teeth.

As soon as he fell she was on to the next, twirling and swinging the blade like it was an extension of herself. When was the last time she’d held a proper lightsaber in her hands?

One of the Rakata lunged from behind and she skewered him with ease, plasma searing through flesh like a knife through Westhill butter. Three down, three to go, and one of the Rakata left standing was injured. His mouth opened and hissed unintelligibly at her, so she did the same, opening her mouth behind her modulator and shrieking back—she darted for him, slipped behind his knees, and ran the ‘saber through the tendons of his legs.

The Rakata dropped to his knees, coned head bowing up to the sky. Seeing red, she shoved the hilt of the blade into his open mouth and let him sink to the ground. Still Rey wasn’t done, and the ‘saber had only heightened everything around her. She’d been thrown into this without warning, and she would get out of it no matter the cost; the dark side was all around her, begging to be let in, to be acknowledged, and she inhaled, curling her fingers around the hilt of the blade until her knuckles surely whitened.

And there was no need for the Force. Even without it, the blade became an extension of her body as she twirled and danced over the sand, cutting and splicing and jabbing. There were two Rakata left, two that she intended on eliminating like the rest. They were fast, but not fast enough. One, missing an eye, started toward her with deadly intent, and the other—nicked in the side—stumbled but lifted her claws up to Rey as a challenge.

Rey narrowed her eyes, lifted the lightsaber, and charged toward them. The first met her evenly, and the second screamed, almost vying for the honor of killing Rey first. It became very obvious that the two Rakata, though solid, steadfast, and powerful, were horribly mismatched and aggressive. It hadn’t even taken thirty seconds before Rey darted nimbly from the second Rakata, whose claws had intended to tear her throat to shreds and instead sank into the first Rakata’s own throat, who gurgled and fell backward, choking. Rey seized the moment and let the Rakata fall onto her ignited lightsaber before kicking him aside.

Somewhere behind her, Sobu was moaning.

The final, angry Rakata charged her head-on with claws outstretched, all muscle and brawn and width. The red began to fade from Rey’s vision and she became overtly aware of the corpses all around them, but she couldn’t give half a thought to what they’d done right now. She was almost there. It was just another obstacle in between her and staying alive. _Don’t die! Don’t die!_ screamed a voice in her head. She skittered around one of the Rakatan corpses, teetering from the remaining warrior’s furious lunge as her claws aimed for Rey, and Rey lifted her blade, ready to strike through the Rakata’s open side—

Overhead, the shadows of numerous more shuttles heading to the temple cast over them.

Rey started, eyes drawn to the shuttles in disbelief.

“ _Agh!”_ she cried, blinking heavily at the sudden invasion of light and the blood trickling down her cheek; the Rakata crushed her mask in her claws and ripped it from her head, spitting insults to Rey’s face. In her distraction, she’d lost her one disguise, instead replaced with a painful sting from her ear to her cheekbone. With a scream—raw and unfiltered from the modulator—Rey tore toward the Rakata, who dropped the remains of her mask to the ground.

With no weapon of her own to defend from Sobu’s blade, the Rakata hissed, moving to disarm Rey. A split second later, Rey kicked the sand up into the Rakata’s narrowed eyes.

“Feast! Feast!” spat the Rakata, shaking into the sand. “Die with the rest of them, Sith _trash_!” Rey grit her teeth as the Rakata struggled to stand. “Die,” repeated the Rakata.

“I _won’t_ ,” Rey said, furious. The Rakata brought up one hand and the same cold pull from earlier began to seep into her gut.

Which left the Rakata wide open.

Rey aimed and launched the ignited blade plasma-first straight into the Rakata’s open palm, searing a hole through her flesh as it spun through her hand and through her shoulder. She bellowed in pain, a deep and tremorous sound that resounded across the waves and shook the palm leaves from their trees. The icy weight in Rey’s blood disappeared, and she lunged forward with a gasp as the Rakata face-planted. Without another thought, Rey staggered across the sand, found Sobu’s blade unignited several paces behind the Rakata, and lept to the Rakata’s open back.

_Thump._

The sun seemed horribly bright, but all Rey could see was the Rakata slumping to the shore, lifeless. She’d raked the blade over her spine, splitting it in two, and finally the beach was quiet. Her heart thudded up into her throat, too fast and too stuttered from the sudden ambush.

Then it began to calm. Her eyes lifted from the dead Rakata at her feet to the litter of corpses along the shore.

What… happened?

A noise from behind her finally slipped into her ears between the rush of blood and the thumping of her heart. Sobu was murmuring something.

Rey turned and spotted him lying against the boulder behind which he’d found her before all of this had happened ten minutes ago. She had half a mind to leave him there. There wasn’t anything she could do for him—he was bleeding heavily from the neck, and it was a miracle that he was still breathing, or that his eyes were still open.

His eyes were still open.

At the sight of her, he gurgled and raised a bloody hand. It took her two seconds to realize the beach air was touching the wound on her cheek far too intimately than it would with her mask on.

“W-who—” managed Sobu, delirious in blood loss. “Are… Kira?”

Rey was about to turn and leave. Sobu was still muttering in distress, wasting whatever precious life he had remaining to him. She could pick up her mask and get away from here before the shuttles flew back overhead and spotted her in the middle of the massacre.

But her mask was in shambles, bits and pieces of it laying at her feet. Cursing, she swiveled around, scanning the shore for anything to hide her identity. She _needed_ a disguise, especially if she couldn’t leave the planet.

“K-Kira.” Sobu was blabbering behind her by the boulder, likely still focused on delivering her to Kylo. Rey closed her eyes and desperately attempted to settle her anxiety.

“...ira,” said Sobu again. He coughed. It was awful, bubbling through the otherwise silent beach.

She opened her eyes and turned toward him. He wouldn’t last long, anyway. She _could_ put him out of his misery—

—the thought left her quickly. She wasn’t like that. But in the moment it had crossed her mind, she’d stepped forward and her foot had knocked against metal. Peering down, she spotted Sobu’s helmet, having been ripped from his head in the ambush.

Rey bent down and grasped the helmet with lead-filled fingers. It was heavy, but it would do. It was certainly more durable than the mask she’d had for the past day, the one Smear had given her when the First Order had shown up at the port. And she suspected her identity would be much safer with it on.

Sobu gurgled heavily as she inspected it. Glancing upward, she saw his mouth moving, but he was inaudible. Before Rey knew what she was doing, she’d stepped toward him, kneeling down to meet him eye to eye.

“Wh… who… are you?” he said haltingly, pausing to breathe.

“I can’t tell you,” she said. It hurt Rey to see anyone like this, even if it was a Knight from whom she wanted to escape. “You need to rest. Close your eyes. It’s okay, they’re all gone now.”

“My… lightsaber,” Sobu wheezed.

She looked down. His helmet was in one of her hands, cradled against her chest. His blade was in her other hand. Rey’d almost forgotten about it.

She swallowed. The idea that was rising in her mind was too terrible to act upon, but one that she had to do. “Sobu,” she started, and then swallowed again, deciding not to say anything. Instead, she stood up and walked around the boulder, spotting the datapad he’d dropped earlier. After a moment she’d clipped it to her belt and thrown her blood-stained cloak over it, hiding it from view.

When she came back to Sobu, he was crying.

“I don’t… want… to die yet,” he said. “I have… to… help Master.”

“You _have_ helped him,” said Rey. “Please, Sobu, just rest. Please.” It would be easier for both of them if he closed his eyes and just… slipped away.

Something switched in Sobu’s face. Disdainfully, he managed, “L… _liar_.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She _was_ , but she had to leave. Clipping his lightsaber to her belt as well, she tugged her hood back and fit the helmet over her head. It clasped back around her ears and sighed into place. “I have to go,” she added. The voice that left the helmet wasn’t her own.

Sobu said nothing, but his eyes were locked onto the helmet’s visor, dark with hatred.

Rey stepped away, and despite herself, she felt her eyes water. She hadn’t known Sobu at all—hadn’t known _any_ of the Knights, really—but none of them deserved the ambush or the death that waited Sobu. None of them except perhaps Lokka, who had shot Darr in the head without another thought.

She trudged along the shore, leaving the desecrated beach and Sobu, who was waiting for death against the boulder where she’d spent the night. He would be dead within minutes, Rey knew.

In a daze, she made her way across the beach and into the jungle, toward the port. Sobu’s datapad was sure to have access codes for transports. If she hurried, she could leave before the shuttles returned to the port from the temple.

Rey didn’t look over her shoulder as she left for the port. She had to keep moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks, everyone, for the patience! we were swarmed with work and midterms, and inspiration for action is hard to come by sometimes. we finally sat down to actually write this a few days ago after a few weeks of being blindsided by work.
> 
> knights of ren rough group sketches (mahad, lokka, and yuzha are the three from this [concept art](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/File:Knights-of-Ren-concept-art.jpg)):  
> [w/ masks](https://i.imgur.com/JHKThKb.png)  
> [w/o masks](https://i.imgur.com/bs3PslY.png)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oho

Kylo was more than ready to get into the temple, tear it to the ground, and get the fuck off the planet. A single night with the Black Rakata Settlement had been enough to last him a lifetime, and as he trudged across the beach after the One and the looming guard of Rakata, cloak whipping around his ankles in the seabreeze, he made a mental note to leave all future dealings with the Rakata System to General Hux. Kylo hadn’t been so ready to leave a place since he’d once stepped on Jakku.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow, as they had ad nauseum since the moment he’d first set foot on the planet. He lifted a hand to wipe them away, squinting against the rising sun to seek out the silhouette of the temple’s ivory spire on the horizon. Palm trees lined its base, swaying gently under a blue sky that looked deceivingly peaceful. That peace was a lie; Kylo knew the First Order’s Destroyers lurked just beyond the planet’s atmosphere, out of sight for now, but not out of range. Among them was the _Judicator,_ with its conditioned air and his chambers where he’d be left alone, no Rakata or _celebrations_ in sight. He could almost feel it already, which made the humidity that coated his skin all the more unbearable.

“Nice little outing,” Mahad grunted from his right as they approached the cliff from which the temple overlooked the sea.

“Shut up, Mahad,” snapped Lokka through her modulator from over Kylo’s shoulder. “Maybe if you spent more time training and less time in your cups you wouldn’t complain so much.”

“Says Miss ‘I drink Ithorian Mist like it’s water’,” Mahad shot back, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Quiet,” Kylo barked, _knowing_ that Lokka had opened her mouth to deliver a petulant reply. If he was forced to sit through another episode of Lokka and Mahad’s bickering, he thought he might actually lose his mind. He wouldn’t tolerate it. Especially not in the company of the One and his followers, who’d already proved more uncooperative than he cared for.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the One’s hand flex around his halberd. The air was tense between them as they climbed the rocky series of steps that led from the beach up to the top of the plateau. Kylo got the sense that all of them except perhaps Yuzha—the Rakata included—were biting their tongues. His hair was soaked and matted to his forehead, his back drenched by the time they reached the top of the hill. Fuck. He hated this planet.

“Make this as quick as possible,” Kylo ordered the One as he strode out onto the grassy hilltop, eyeing the temple and the invisible wall that stood between him and its entry. “We’re eager to be on our way, just as I’m sure you’re eager to be rid of us.”

Both of the One’s eyes swiveled to him. They blinked. “It has been no inconvenience, Supreme Leader.”

He left it at that, and Kylo wasn’t sure what to make of his tone—but it didn’t matter, because he’d keep his guard up either way. Biting the inside of his cheek and clenching his fists, he followed the One and other Rakata across the plateau towards the temple’s entrance. His Knights fell in line behind him.

“Good to be back here again,” said Mahad when they came to a halt. “Almost looks kinda nice.” He planted his broadsword in the ground and folded his hands on its hilt, peering up at the massive temple ahead of them.

Orsaa shot him a narrow-eyed look. “It may not look like much to you, but for the Rakata, it is a _sacred_ place.”

There were only a couple seconds of silence that answered this, Mahad having been quieted enough to lean away from his sword and pull it back from the ground. The tone seemed to shift as they stood around waiting for the next set of instructions.

“Open it,” Kylo said finally, through clenched teeth.

The spell was broken. The One sighed, as though there was something very important that had to be said, right now, this fucking instance, and Kylo was sick of it. “There are several steps that must be taken first, Supreme Leader. It is not so simple as that,” the One said to him, almost smug.

“Fine. What do you need from us?”

The One turned to face him and his Knights. Lifting a clawed hand to fiddle with his collar of bones, he told Kylo, “That depends, Supreme Leader.” He paused. Then a smirk split his wide mouth eye-to-eye.

Yuzha was quick to the draw; she raised her head, helmet glinting in the late-morning light. “We appreciate all that you’ve done for us, but you’ll forgive me when we say we lack the time for riddles. Tell us what you need to access the temple, and we will give it to you.”

“I think it would be better if I show your Supreme Leader,” the One replied. Then with a slight nod to Kylo, he made a clawed gesture to his temple.

Yuzha’s helmet turned to stare at Kylo, as did the rest of the Knights, as if he could make sense of the meaning. “If you _show_ me?” said Kylo. If it was what he thought the One wanted….

“Have a look.” The One repeated the gesture, an invitation to his mind. “You can do that. No?”

Kylo’s throat tightened. He wasn’t too inclined to step inside the head of another Rakata, especially not after what he’d seen last time. But, like before, it was necessary. Swallowing the lump in his throat and casting aside the heavy weight in his gut, he took two steps forward and heard his Knights form into a defensive stance behind him. “Show me.”

The One’s grin widened as he crossed to Kylo, eyes never leaving his face. His collar of bones clinked and sounded together when he tilted his head slightly in Kylo’s direction. “Here,” said the One, tapping his temple once more, and for a moment the harsh Basic that left his wide mouth sounded somewhat soft. “Look inside.”

Kylo slowly lifted a hand to the Rakata’s cone-shaped head. Drawing a deep breath through his nose, he reached forward with his fingers and felt the tendrils of Force—so much _stronger_ here, so much easier and addictive—curl around the Rakata’s mind. It was enough to close Kylo’s eyes. So he settled into it, heard the thumping of his own heart in his ears, and _looked_.

The One’s power hit him like a sucker punch. All at once he was choking on it, _drowning_ in it, struggling to breathe. It was magnified by the essence of the grounds of the temple they were standing on, and images flew through his mind’s eye, too quickly at first to make anything of them while the dark side surged through his being, pulling him down like a weight. It tugged and bit at him, scraped and clawed at his mind like sharpened talons raking over his skin and piercing his insides. Kylo gasped for air. The joints in his fingers locked while his heels dug into dirt.

Slowly, the images came into focus: images of a bustling, tropical planet with seaside cities whose buildings scraped a ship-filled sky. Hordes of Rakata warriors marched over beaches and hills—a whole army of them, clad head to toe in midnight battle armor with weapons in hand—while a dying dwarf star blazed overhead. Only it wasn’t dying. It wasn’t even a dwarf.

An ancient superweapon churned above the planet, draining the star’s life force and _building, building, building_. It fed, devoured, whispered across the expanse of space and time. Thousands of ships drifted just beyond the planet’s atmosphere, outlined against black heavens and the light of distant stars: an empire, an infinite empire waiting to be conquered and they would never stop _building_.

A figure of a man appeared on the very plateau where Kylo now stood, his face hidden behind a tarnished, battle-worn mask, robed in dark garments that caught on the wind. He held a lightsaber in either hand: one red, the other purple. They’d called him the Butcher. A remorseless, foolhardy human who’d out-riddled them all.

 _Daritha_ , the One’s voice murmured inside Kylo’s mind.

And then things were changing. Skyscrapers tumbled to the ground as vines reached out from the depths of the jungles to cover and reclaim them all. Technological prowess fell to ruin, a population brought to its knees by a war of religions beyond the Rakata’s interest or control. The same star glinted overhead. It burned into Kylo’s eyes as he sought to remember everything he’d seen—

“Now you see as I have seen, and know all we have lost. The Temple of the Ancients cannot be opened without sacrifice, as it was sacrifice that built it.” The One broke their connection in a shock, and when Kylo was wrenched back to the present, he blinked heavily, found himself shaking, drenched in sweat. His chest heaved as his lungs filled with ragged breaths.

And even then, the One continued, “Now it is my turn… to see what yours will be.”

Without so much as a warning, the Rakata leader tore into Kylo’s head, sparks of blinding pain shooting behind his eyes. A sound escaped him, something like a cry—but he wasn’t seeing the beach anymore. For a second he went limp, powerless but to watch as the One rifled through his thoughts and memories. It was agonizing, but Kylo hardly noticed; hardly noticed how he fell to his knees in the grass, a prisoner in his own head.

“G-g-g-get out,” he spluttered, throat raw. “G-g— _agh_ —”

The One didn’t listen. Like a child gleefully playing with a new toy, he shuffled through Kylo’s life, dredging up the past in an onslaught more painful than any physical attack could have been. In a flash Ben Solo was alive again, a boy on Chandrila, skipping stones with a younger, living Han Solo along the surface of Hanna City Bay. And there was the Wookiee, helping him out of the Falcon’s cockpit while Senator Organa scolded the man he’d once called father. _You’re late. Reckless. He’s too young. You can’t do this anymore, Han. You’re not some hotshot who can come and go as he pleases_. _You’re a father now_.

His memories lurched forward, this time landing on the _Supremacy_. He was kneeling before Snoke, no more a man than he’d been on Chandrila. Weak. Useless. A thorn in his master’s side, even as his master lifted a hand to offer another chance of retribution, to show his devotion, when it was all a facade.

And then there was her. A quiet moment of intimacy and a shared exchange, her body so close to his as the lift carried them to the _Supremacy_ ’s upper deck, warm, making him feel things he never knew he’d even had the power to feel, things that weren’t _supposed_ to be his, before everything fell apart. _No. Get out of my fucking head. It’s not yours—_

“Ah. There it is,” he heard the One’s voice echo from somewhere far away. He pried deeper, combing through the events at Malastare, at how Kylo had locked himself in his chambers for a month afterwards, living off the Force and tugging, desperately grappling for their bond and finding _nothing_ —

“ _Get_ — _out_ —!” Kylo demanded through his throat, hoarse, raw, though it came out as more of a plea as he blinked through sightless eyes, desperate to be released—was he on his _knees_ now?—

The One ignored him. “This is unexpected, I must say.”

Kylo was losing track of where reality ended and where his delusions began. The One reached deeper, digging up night terrors Kylo had long since blocked out, memories of her death re-lived and all that had gone wrong. Of endless, unbearable silence and how he’d pleaded with the universe to just _give her back_ but she was gone because of him and like everything else he’d ruined, he would never be able to regain it, and he’d lost, and he was sobbing, always so weak, his lungs were filled with smoke and all the temples were burning—

He was pulled out of his own mind with a scream as the One let go with a cold, wicked laugh. Kylo collapsed forward, hands outstretched in the dirt and grass, something wet on his cheeks. “You must give up that which matters most. The temple will settle for no less,” he heard the One say above him.

His eyes were closed. He tasted dirt on his tongue. “Too… late,” he managed to say, fingers curling, the remnants of a tear tripping to the dirt. “The girl is _dead_ …. She’s _dead._ ” He refused to give the Rakata her name, even if he’d more than likely already stolen it from his head.

The One squatted down before him and offered him a hand, as if to help him up. “Do you really think so? That is not my impression.”

Kylo’s eyes snapped open to meet the One’s expression, which appeared doleful for a split second.

Then the Rakata threw his head back and laughed. “That is not my impression of your true thoughts, of course, you utter _child._ You still have hope, like a child. You still hold on, like a child! Fueling yourself on the Force will never rectify this. You carelessly think you can survive off of the Force with no consequence? That is what _children_ think when they dream of becoming warlords, like you do, _Daritha_ Ren.” The One breathed in, satisfied. Perhaps not satiated. “Of course, I have no idea as to the girl’s fate, nor do I care. It does not matter. You will never enter the Temple of the Ancients.”

His mouth fell open, incredulous, just as the One drew his leg back and landed a swift kick in his ribs. It knocked the wind from him, caused him to tumble over onto his back, filling his vision with blue, endless sky. _So much empty_. Everywhere he looked, both within himself and beyond, always staring into an abyss—

“I warned you,” Mahad’s deep voice cut in from somewhere to his right, accompanied by the metallic rattle of his broadsword. “That you would die if you raised your hand to your Supreme Leader.”

A lightsaber ignited—Yuzha or Lokka’s, Kylo wasn’t sure. He closed his eyes and drew a sharp breath, lungs expanding again.

“He is no Supreme Leader,” the One screeched back. His tone had suddenly gone cold. “Did you all not hear me? He’s just a child. A sad, pathetic boy.”

 _Child, child, child_. Kylo had heard those words before. _Always on your knees_ , a small voice echoed at the back of his mind. A voice that told him to just lie there, to give up, that if he just _stopped_ eventually it would be okay—

“The Rakata will not give over our secrets so easily, or to one so unworthy. This day has been a test, and you and your Knights have failed. Even the one you left so carelessly at the Settlement,” continued the One, frigid. “Leave now or die.”

Kylo opened his eyes. _No_. He was going to get off this fucking miserable waste of a planet if it killed him.

He rolled over onto all fours, pushing himself to his feet with a stagger. In an instant he drew his lightsaber, felt the cracked crystal within give a shudder as if it knew blood was about to be shed, begging for it. He gripped its hilt with both hands as the Force seeped through his boots and up his legs. It was so much stronger here. Like on Lothal, like everywhere else, it could be tapped into, siphoned away. His own eyes, Kylo was sure, were glinting with murder. “Open the temple, or you’ll burn with it,” he grit out, the words slow and deliberate.

The One angled his halberd towards Kylo in turn, its plasma edge crackling. “Always so certain!”

At once, he charged. Each step shook the ground as he barreled towards Kylo, but Kylo was quicker, ducking out of the way and circumnavigating the Rakata as Lokka, Yuzha and Mahad came up to flank his sides—each with their weapons drawn. Kylo dropped the rest of the barriers he’d kept between himself and the planet’s life force, allowing the dark side to fully flow into his limbs and heat his blood. His heart hammered in his chest, bursting with adrenaline that set his limbs shaking with anticipation as he eyed the One’s guard, waiting and ready. That thirst, that _need_ was going to devour him alive. The dark side breathed into him and he inhaled it, heedless.

_Finally... he would kill them all._

Bringing his lightsaber over his head in a wide arc and pointing it straight at the One in a taunt, he rushed forward as his Knights split behind him to take on the others. The One was smiling: it was a hideous, condescending smile that begged Kylo to burn it from his fucking face. And, before he could see the Rakata’s legs move, he’d darted forward to meet him.

They clashed in a shower of sparks that rained down and seared the ground. Dirt parted under his feet as Kylo’s blade landed on top of the One’s halberd. Immediately, the One resisted it, still grinning; Kylo bent forward, his blade crackling more and more as he put his weight behind it, digging his heels into the ground. And yet, the One wouldn’t move. The life force of the planet slipped through Kylo’s fingers and, even then, was matched as well in the Rakata who bared his teeth with the promise of death.

Kylo’s knuckles were already aching around the hilt. Without the Force he was certain he’d be grasping for the dirt again in front of the One, who was naturally stronger, much more so than Kylo—so Kylo dug his feet into the ground even further and felt his blood rush hot to his head, nearly making him dizzy.

“You’re all the same,” the One breathed in his face, smelling of rot and carrion.

Kylo tore the ‘saber downward to push the halberd away, shoulders pressing into it with more effort than he’d done in months, but the second he’d done so the One shoved a clawed hand at his chest and shoved him off. Kylo stumbled backwards, skidding across dirt that had been loosened from the ground in the assault. From the corner of his eye he saw Yuzha and Mahad standing back to back, taking on four of the Rakata at once while Lokka split another’s head from his body with a shriek. She kicked his corpse out of her way and then she was on to the next.

Even despite the hatred that seared through Kylo’s head, he was enjoying this. It felt _good_. It’d been too long since he and his Knights had had a real fight, and Kylo had almost forgotten how fighting was the only time he felt alive. Sweat coated his temples and his cheeks, and it was seeping through his sleeves. He cast his cloak off, donned now in only his tunic and the pauldron over his left shoulder, and even the small amount of relief cleared the slight haze from his mind.

His head turned back toward the One, who was waiting for him. Kylo bared his teeth in a promise. “I’m going to feed you to your own,” he snarled, stalking forward again, fingers numb now from the pressure around the hilt of his blade. “We’ll see what sort of child can do _that_.”

He lept into a sprint and jerked his lightsaber forward, eyeing the open area just to the side of the One’s gut, but the One slipped to the side and parried the blow with a cry in the native Rakatan tongue. In basic, the One panted, “That would be a great honor, _boy_. But you will not do that today!”

Kylo didn’t relent. From all around him he heard the sounds of Mahad, Yuzha, and Lokka yelling at the Rakatan guards, channeling it into his blade as he brought it back down to the One; sparks exploded all around them as their weapons clashed, one hit after the next as they exchanged blow by blow by blow, bearing the brunt of each hit. The One raised his halberd and nearly disarmed Kylo by almost slicing his hand off from the wrist, but Kylo took one hand and froze him in place before the blow could land.

For a split second, it worked. Enough to save his hand and enough for Kylo to slam a fist in the Rakata’s face, and blood spewed from his wide mouth onto Kylo’s clothes. Then the One broke free with his own power, the barrage rocketing into Kylo’s body just as heavily as a physical attack. But Kylo was still armed, and he feigned to the left, grasping his blade with two hands while wondering if his trick would work a second time so he could land another blow—but just as he re-adjusted his grip once again, raising his hand to freeze the Rakata for another half moment, he found himself frozen instead.

It was only for an instant. The One caught him upside the head with the blunt end of his halberd. Then Kylo broke out of it, stumbling backwards, just as hot blood trickled down behind his ear. The fucking Rakata knew his strengths and weakness in and out because of that little frolic in his mind, so how in the Galaxy was Kylo supposed to—

But before he could charge forward again, a low rumble met his ears, and then his feet: the groan of a ship’s engine overhead, something familiar, and Kylo glanced up to see a dark shape growing larger in the sky. It was flanked by a series of smaller figures, and as soon as he noted them a telltale high-pitched whine began to fade in above them. TIE fighters.

It was the First Order. Kylo had never been more relieved to see Hux’s idiot ship in the sky.

“Your friends?” the One said as if he’d read Kylo’s mind. With stunning agility, he spun his halberd in a twirl over his chest, the razor-fine edge of the blade whistling as it split the air. Just as the words left his mouth, green cannon fire erupted from the approaching TIE fighters, hailing down on the plateau and causing fountains of soil and grass to erupt from the earth. They plowed through the sky overhead, the scream of their engines lagging a second behind them. Somewhere near Kylo, Lokka let out a murderous, delighted cackle.

Kylo threw his arm over his eyes with one hand, squinting against the flurries of dirt and pebbles, then twirled the hilt of his ‘saber over his wrist with the other, moving back into his learned offensive stance against the One, his weight balanced into his left leg. The air filled with the scent of seared flesh and plasma. By the sounds of it and by how Mahad yelled in triumph, a Rakata had been hit. Well, at least Hux was good for something.

In the brief victory, however, the One’s eyes turned molten.

And Kylo’s hand—the one that gripped his lightsaber—caught fire.

What felt like magma seemed to consume every inch of flesh under his glove, yet there was nothing he could see above the fabric—he dropped his weapon, immediately ripping his glove from his hand to find his skin red and raw, the top layer of it withered like it’d been burned. Deadly Sight: a trademark darkside ability, but nothing Kylo had ever done. Kylo’s wide-eyed glare shot back to the Rakata leader, a new wariness falling over him. Eyeing the One carefully, he used the Force to call his lightsaber to his good hand and re-ignited the blade.

The One’s beady eyes swiveled to the blade in his hands.

It was a distraction.

Kylo heaved through the pain and, in the second that the One’s attention landed on Kylo’s lightsaber, used his injured right hand to beckon forth a surge of deadly lightning from the Force. It rent the cloudless sky in two, flashing hot purple against the sunlight as it tunneled down to the plateau. On Kylo’s command it sought out the One, drawn to the torrent of power that festered inside him. The One opened his mouth, perhaps to scream, perhaps to curse _Daritha_ Ren… Kylo didn’t know.

The lightning lit the One’s body into fire and speared straight into his wide, open mouth, charing him from the inside out.

Kylo breathed heavy, watchful as the Rakata’s body, wracked by electricity, went still. In the corner of his eye he saw Hux’s transport land on the plateau behind him, just as the One fell face-forward and landed on the ground. He glanced down, noting the blood drying on his clothes from when he’d managed to land a hit on the One. Then, as the world caught back up to him, Kylo glanced up and saw his Knights had already slain most of the others. Mahad was clutching his arm where he’d sustained a hit and, some steps away, Lokka was missing her helmet and had been for quite some time now, her left eye already turning blue and purple. Yuzha looked unscathed, per usual, but her shoulders were moving quickly in time with her staggered, tired breaths.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. When Kylo was certain the One was dead (and Yuzha skewered the last Rakata with her blade), he turned to see General Hux descending the transport’s ramp and starting towards him, clad in a heavy black overcoat and full military regalia despite the heat. “Supreme Leader,” he uttered. As stuffy as ever.

Kylo clipped his lightsaber to his belt and turned to General Hux, dragging his good hand through his matted raven hair to pull it out of his face. “Why are you _here_ , General?”

Hux eyed Kylo as though the effort of explaining himself was beneath him. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I _care_ ”—Hux glanced at the temple as his nose wrinkled—“about your cultish landmarks. I suspect you’ve forgotten your efforts are required to stabilize control of the planet, _Supreme Leader_ , and as you and your band have disabled your tracking devices I thought I would inform you myself. It appears I assumed correctly in guessing your whereabouts,” he added, snidely peering over Kylo’s shoulder at the Rakatan corpses littering the ground.

Ignoring Hux, Kylo glanced back at the One’s fallen body. As the excitement of battle wore off and the dark side dissipated from his body, it was replaced by a familiar, hollow rage and a tense undercurrent. But rage at what? The One, for refusing to open the temple? Himself, for coming here in the first place? _Or for still letting_ her _cloud his judgement._ His fingers curled into fists.

Without the One, the temple was useless to him. It couldn’t be accessed without that awful creature. That meant the whole past day, the trek through the jungle, the night spent at the Black Rakata Settlement, today’s hike across the beach—it was useless. All of it was fucking useless.

Kylo bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. When would this end?

“Supreme Leader,” the General sniveled behind him, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Not now,” Kylo snapped, brushing past his subordinate towards the shuttle. He needed bacta if he was going to retain use of his right hand.

That was when he felt it. The tense underlying tremor of fear not his own that had heightened when the last Rakata had been killed, and it shook him through to the core.

He pivoted around. The rest of his Knights were staring at him. They’d felt it too.

Sobu.

There was nothing to do on the road other than observe the scenery or attempt to crack into Sobu’s datapad as she made her way back to the port, and Rey opted for the latter. She’d been walking for hours and hadn’t really made any headway with the device. At the very least she’d managed to switch it over to administrative mode, but as far as gaining access went she was still at square one. She had no experience with First Order encryption or slicing at all, really, and she was starting to doubt that she’d be able to pull it off.

 _If only Rose was still here_ , she thought with a sinking heart.

But Rey was alone. Or at least she hoped she was. The last thing she needed was to be ambushed in the jungle, one more thing standing in the way of her making an escape offworld. It was sometime around midday, and the canopy did little to shield her from the brutal heat and sunlight. Beetuls hissed between the trees and the underbrush was alive with the buzz of nectarsects, but luckily Rey hadn’t encountered any travelers, thieves or otherwise. Still, she kept close to the edge of the long dirt road should she need to dart off into the foliage, and she made sure to routinely glance over her shoulder.

Defeated, she dumped the datapad into her satchel. She’d make finding a slicer her first priority when she got to wherever she was headed next, but she needed to find a transport if she was ever going to get there. The port couldn’t be too much farther. She was walking briskly and she’d been traveling for a while.

Rey thought back to the beach. A mistake, but it was too late. What had those Rakata wanted with her? And if they’d ambushed her and Sobu, had the same fate awaited Kylo and his Knights?

_Had he made it out alive?_

She shook her head, ignoring how her nostrils started to sting.

Rey hoped Sobu’s final moments had been peaceful, at least. Leaving him there on the beach had been much more painful than she’d anticipated, but there hadn’t really been a choice. Her disguise had been destroyed and they’d made a mess of the Rakata. Lingering around to explain herself—especially about how she’d managed to wield a lightsaber—would have been disastrous, and besides, who knew if she would’ve gotten another chance to escape without a hassle?

Still, Rey’s throat was tight. The One was clearly very powerful, and what if… what if…

_No._

That life was in the past. It’d _been_ in the past, and she’d done an alright job of keeping it there until he’d arrived and ruined it all. But she’d buried him once before, and she’d do it again no matter what it took. Rey was no stranger to death and loss. At this point it was the only constant in her life.

Besides, he wasn’t the same.

 _She’s dead. I should be used to it by now._ His words echoed in her head, like they had all night on the beach no matter how hard she’d tried to tune them out to the sound of breaking waves. That awful hope still niggled at the front of her mind, even as she tried so hard to cast it aside. Was it possible he still cared? That he was still in there somewhere, beneath all the wrongdoings and anger and formality of his title?

That line of thinking was dangerous and she knew it. “He was drunk,” Rey muttered aloud. It was weird for her to even acknowledge. Kylo didn’t _get_ drunk. Even with her brief time with him so long ago, she knew that.

And, besides, allowing herself to dwell on hypotheticals would get her killed. She’d seen it happen to others, like Han, who’d ended up dead after gambling on his son’s heart. There was no way she was going to make the same mistake. Kylo Ren had had his chance. She’d put herself on the line for him once before and he’d betrayed her.

And for what? He didn’t seem happier now that he’d taken Snoke’s throne. Quite the opposite, really. Rey grit her teeth. _Snap out of it_. She’d been able to live a long time without having this much trouble thinking about him, but it was still toiling on her. She sidestepped an old speeder that lay half-buried in the mud as her thoughts wandered to the past again.

Rakata Prime was strange. In a way it was like Jakku: littered with old rusted ruins and outdated technology, things she would have looted and scrapped had she ever settled in to make a real life here. Like Jakku there were battle scars everywhere, though not necessarily visible to the untrained eye: unnatural craters in the hillsides, filled with groundwater and turned into radioactive ponds; sunken battleships, blasted from the sky to land in the ocean, only visible on days when the tide was especially low. Not to mention there were far more meteors in the night sky than there had been on, say, Ahch-To, leaving Rey to believe that either the Rakata System was planted in the middle of an asteroid field or that the orbital infrastructure was just as dilapidated as it was on the ground. There were probably countless ships, observatories and stations up there, slowly eroding and falling away beneath the ravages of time and starlight.

Several buildings came into view on the horizon, glinting in the sun. She was almost there. Jolted from her recollections, she felt strength again in her legs and hurried forward. The sooner she found a slicer the sooner she’d be offworld and able to rescind back into safety. All she needed were the access codes, and she had Sobu’s helmet and ‘saber. She’d find a slicer, hope no one questioned her clothes as she approached the transports, and would steal away offworld before anyone found out Sobu was actually dead. Normally she would consider modifying the mask to make it less recognizable and perhaps somehow make her way into the temple like she’d originally intended when she came to the planet, but she had neither the time nor the resources. And Rey had a sneaking suspicion that passing off as a Knight would benefit her more than just a passerby with a Knight’s datapad.

Rey kept walking. She wasn’t sure how much time passed, but at some point, her numb legs finally reached the threshold of the port. The overwhelming presence of the First Order had since diminished into a much smaller number of Stormtrooper squadrons patrolling the roads; instead Rey had a sneaking suspicion much of the First Order had vanished up behind the blue sky and above the atmosphere of Rakata Prime now that they’d logged most of the planet into their Database, wrangled the Rakata into submission.

She’d exercise caution, anyway. The Knights might operate mostly separate from the actual First Order, but their masks still screamed _Knight of Ren,_ and there was an unfortunate likelihood that some Stormtrooper would recognize Sobu’s helmet if she wasn’t as inconspicuous as possible.

Rey took a long breath through Sobu’s helmet. She only had one lead in the port and that was the man she’d first met—Droid—when the First Order had arrived. The one whose mind Kylo had scoured when he’d first landed on Rakata Prime, looking for Smear, the one who’d deserted them and who Kylo had so comfortably killed.

Droid was in the same booth she’d always seen him in before the First Order had arrived, and—funnily enough—still wearing the mask with one eye and cheek showing. Rey took a moment to observe him in full. She remembered a tan face under the mask, older and crumpled often with age, coupled with peppery dark hair and silver spots along his temples. But that had been only in passing before the First Order had descended on the planet. Still, even now, he looked small and harmless in his booth.

He looked up when Rey approached, datapad again in her hand, and he audibly gasped before saying, “M-m-my Knight, sir.”

Oh. Rey blinked and swallowed her guilt away. Looking around, the other merchants were eyeing her warily. She looked down and only just realized how awful she appeared; her long shawl, half-tattered but speckled darkly with Rakatan blood and dirt; her boots, muddy and unrecognizable; her gloves, already dark, now nearly black from the ambush and her trek through the jungle.

And, of course, the lightsaber pinned to her belt and the helmet on her head.

“Please, sir, you can have whatever you need,” continued Droid.

Rey sent a silent prayer up to the Galaxy. With a stiff arm, she held out the datapad and hoped a poor imitation of Sobu would convince him and the other merchants. “My datapad’s codes were scrambled. I am looking for a slicer and remembered you from the time you pledged your loyalty to Su— _Master_. Do you know a slicer?”

Droid, however much a doormat he may have been, gave Rey more than she could have ever wanted. “Sir,” Droid said, the lone brown eye under the mask wide in fear, “I—I _am_ a slicer.”

Rey held back a noise of relief. So he’d been a droid servicer… by slicing into droids and reprogramming them, most likely. It was almost too convenient. Slicers never revealed themselves that easily. Did he recognize her? Was he working for _them_ now?

He must have felt the weight of her scrutiny because he said, “I—I’ll slice into anything you need me to—I do droids, mostly, but I can do this—just please let me li—”

“Two hours. Slice into this and Master will let you live,” Rey told him, too quickly, but Droid paid no attention, jumping onto the datapad like his life depended on it. She’d keep a wary eye on him.

Rey angled her head back over her shoulder, staring back to the distant jungle. If all went smoothly, she'd leave well before sundown, and she’d be completely unknown all over again.

 

The temple forgotten, they’d rushed back to the settlement. Lokka had darted ahead of them all, crying; Mahad had followed her, forgetting for the time being their animosity that had plagued the two of them since the previous night and today. Kylo took one look at Hux and had demanded he wait at the temple and use his fleet and fighters to keep any straggling Rakata ambushers away until he returned.

“You’d do well to take my shuttle, Ren,” Hux had told him. “But if I were you, I’d let that weak one perish along like the rest.”

But Kylo opted to take the long route back through the jungle again, wanting to get rid of any Rakata who dared to attack them on the way back. Yuzha agreed, and soon they found themselves tearing through thick vines and undergrowth back to the Black Rakatan Settlement, clearing a path of severed branches, charred ferns and smoking tree trunks. They blurred together, fading away as Sobu’s distressing signature grew stronger. He was holding on. He’d been good at that, that Sobu.

They encountered no other Rakata, and soon the heavy tangle of the jungle finally broke and the beach they saw was in disarray. Rakatan corpses littered the sand, much like what had happened back at the temple. “Sobu!” Lokka cried, her feet kicking into the shore. “SOBU!”

“Lokka, _wait,_ ” Mahad yelled after her. “Agh, she’s so _fast_ —”

“SOBU,” Lokka shrieked again, and soon Kylo saw the figure against a boulder on the far side of the shore. He was sitting up against the rock, unmoving even as Lokka raced toward him, maskless.

At the sight of Kylo, however, Sobu moved. “M-m-master,” he crooned, spitting blood from his lips. Dull, matted hair clung to his forehead. He was pale, almost gray with blood loss. “I… d… didn’t… want to die… without….” He trailed off, taking a shallow breath, then continued, “... stayed… alive.... f… for M… Master….”

Kylo bent low, looking around. The Force was shaking around Sobu, as if he were using whatever remaining strength he had to live off of it until they’d returned. How long had he been here? It must have a while, and it showed: Sobu was only a shadow of the person he’d been in the morning. And how had they not felt his distress earlier? Had they been blocked by the One until Kylo had killed him?

There was no way for Kylo to save Sobu—even if he had bothered to learn Force healing. And, weak as he was, Sobu wouldn’t live through an ambush like this. “You damn shrimp,” came Mahad’s voice over Kylo’s shoulder. “You should’ve just stuck with your smart work. Who’s going to be our socketguard, now? That’s why we kept you around, you know.”

“Shut up, Mahad!” yelled Lokka again, but there was no real heart in it. She collapsed to her knees by Sobu’s legs. “Let me see what happened. Let me see!” Then she raised a hand to Sobu’s temple, pressed it against his bloody skin, and waited. Sobu relaxed, as though he’d been waiting for it to happen.

A gasp ripped through Lokka’s lips. She tore away, scrambling to her feet. “That—that— _that_ —” She gasped, words turning unintelligible.

Sobu reached for Kylo with a finger. “M… Master,” he murmured, nearly unintelligibly.

Kylo frowned, leaning forward.

“L… look,” said Sobu. “Mas… ter.... I don’t want t… to fail y… you…. Look… Master.”

Ignoring Lokka’s freak yells of rage, Kylo arched onto the balls of his feet, eye-to-eye with his dying Knight. He angled a hand to Sobu’s temple and, with a deep breath, pushed into Sobu’s mind. Images raced past him: a life at the Jedi Academy run by Luke Skywalker before they’d turned into Knights, the name _Ancha_ carved in Basic in a tree where he spent his time in books rather than learning the lightsaber forms, years as a Knight growing older watching over a much younger Lokka and escaping death through cunning strategy rather than brute strength, idolizing Kylo’s devotion to the Force and his natural intellect, his bloodline as Kylo continued to train, and—

And—

The memories seemed to slow as they pieced together into a larger, broader image, trembling with Sobu’s desperation to show it to Kylo. That guide, Kira, and her mask. Several words: _Grew up around sand._ The girl cracking shells open on the shorefront, an ambush from the treeline. Sobu’s helmet, knocked from his head in the fray. His lightsaber stolen from him and thrown into the sand. Kira snatching it from the shoreline in a flash of bright, burning red—a lightsaber, skewering Rakata left and right with ease—and a Rakata warrior clawing the shoddy mask from her face. All the while Sobu watched. The dead corpses on the sand, the maskless woman approaching Sobu and watching him with sadness in her hazel eyes and a plea on her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the voice—untouched, pure, and the _same_ —

The memories stuttered as Sobu re-lived them and Kylo, in near shock, began to understand.

 _You wouldn’t want to see what’s under this mask, Supreme Leader_.

When the memory faded into the present, he saw Sobu crying. He felt _himself_ crying; felt his body quake as he did so, but it was like he was watching it all, a holo, not real, couldn’t be real—

Around him, his Knights were silent—Lokka, too, in shock, waiting for something, _anything_ , to leave Kylo’s lips.

“I… h… helped Ma… Master… right?” said Sobu, grasping at Kylo’s tunic weakly. “I d… don’t want… to die… b… but if it helped… M… Master… then I c… can go.”

But Kylo couldn’t respond. A hole had been punched through him. Like he’d been plunged into the frozen wastes of space, all oxygen and blood and coherence ripped from his being and instead replaced with that dark, endless abyss.

“Of course you didn’t help him,” Lokka snapped vehemently through her tears, choking on the thickness in her voice. “So you can’t go! _You can’t_!”

Sobu, for once, was undeterred. “M… Master… did I… help…?” His face was, if possible, even paler than before, tears highlighting the sharp gray cheekbones in the late day’s sun.

Kylo couldn’t say a word. His voice had been robbed from him. Somehow, he managed a bare nod. Lokka wailed, and Sobu smiled and hummed; Yuzha said nothing, and Mahad, taking one look at Kylo and then to Lokka, seemed to make up his mind.

“May the Force be with you,” said Mahad, quietly murmuring the words only a Jedi would say, and he unlatched the lightsaber from his belt. Then, with a brief pause—likely waiting for Kylo, who was motionless, to intervene—he switched the ignition.

The blade struck through Sobu’s chest and into the boulder behind him. Yuzha’s head turned away sharply—even she was affected, it seemed, and couldn’t stand to watch. Sobu, still smiling, said nothing more. Lokka screamed and charged to Mahad, beating worthlessly at his chest, before falling to the sand beside Sobu and curling at his side, cursing Mahad, cursing Sobu, cursing Kylo for doing nothing, cursing Kira, snapping her teeth at all of them, her body ransacked by sobs.

Kylo stood up.

“Master?” Mahad asked. “What did you see?”

It might have been several seconds, a minute, an hour until he answered—time didn’t exist to him. But it couldn’t have been too long, for Mahad turned away without another word when he replied.

“Nothing,” said Kylo.

Even as Mahad faced back toward Sobu, Lokka’s cries of “Liar!” rang across the beach. “She left him to die! That Kira! She could have helped him! She—”

“No one could have helped him, Lokka!” Mahad snapped. “Just forget about the damn guide. Sobu was _weak._ He always was. But you know as much as I do that I’d have done anything to keep him around. We needed him! None of us can do what he did!”

The words passed through Kylo’s ears and sat there, unheard, as he left them to argue.

He walked across the shore. The tide was low.

With his injured hand over his eyes, he stared across the beach as the blazing white star hovered above the horizon.

He traced the wet trails along his cheeks.

Maybe he heaved on his empty stomach.

Then his boots moved him along the shore again, toward the jungle.

Away from the rest of them, further along into the the tangle of trees.

Something wet and shameful made its way down his cheek again.

Maybe he stood silently, mind running through what he’d seen in Sobu’s head.

Maybe he was lost in a daydream.

Slowly, the sounds of the waves along the shore faded back in. The beetuls deeper in the jungle buzzed noisily in their wordless beckon. His remaining Knights still on the shore yelling at each other, crying, praying, so far away. The pain in his burned hand, desperately needing bacta, but he hardly noticed it at all. Kylo just stood at the entrance of the jungle, his mind beginning to race forward to the present.

The name emerged from the depths of his mind anew with a face that had grown along with it.  

A name he didn’t dare utter aloud.

Rey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHO...
> 
> as usual, thank you all for reading! we always love reading your speculations in the comments!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is partly a flashback chapter spanning to "4 years ago".

Luke Skywalker was dead.

Kylo had waited years for that day. He’d waited years to finally meet Skywalker in battle, for his coward uncle to step out of whatever corner of the galaxy he’d tucked himself away in to pay a retribution long overdue, and finally the moment had come. They’d met. They’d fought. Now Skywalker was dead—Kylo had known the moment it happened; a moment mired in humiliation and a moment he’d never forget. Even light years away he’d felt Skywalker’s Force signature dissipate into nothing, burning out like a sun and leaving darkness in its place.

Kylo’s fingers curled at his sides. That day had been nothing like his fantasies.

The hollowness of his victory had echoed through the barren wastes of Crait, wind stinging his cheeks and kicking salt into his eyes while Hux and his officers had waited. Waited for what? The last Jedi was dead. The Resistance fleet was destroyed. Despite the loss of a dreadnought, their base had been obliterated and there were hardly any dissenters left alive. At that point the odds had favored the First Order more than ever before.

But that wasn’t what he’d really wanted.

He’d wanted _her_ , and she’d betrayed him. She’d refused him, left his life to fate aboard Snoke’s disintegrating Star Destroyer, more interested in saving her traitor friends than learning what he—her only _equal_ —had to offer. She’d made sure to toy with him too, flaunting Han Solo’s ship over those desolate salt plains, taking out an entire string of his TIE fighters in one run while all of his top commanding officials looked on. He hadn’t realized it was her at first; not until the bond reopened after, just long enough for her to let him know that she’d survived and that she’d keep up the fight.

Just long enough to close the door on him.

Long enough for him to realize that perhaps his resentment and anger had been a cop-out for what had really been swirling through his head, and he began to contemplate all the things he’d done wrong. It hadn’t changed anything, however. How could it? He’d still taken the throne from Snoke after having sliced his previous Master in two. Even better, he’d blatantly lied to the entire First Order that _she’d_ done it all.

It’d been one month since Crait when he’d first ordered the Core worlds searched. It was the first place he’d thought to look. He knew General Organa’s tactics and knew she still had sympathizers she could call on for whatever last-ditch effort she was planning. First Order forces had rifled through millions of homes—Coruscant, Corellia, Kuat and Chandrila; anywhere the General had spent time. During the process, anyone thought to be Resistance sympathizers had been sent to rot in the Anoat system’s Crypt.

When he hadn’t found them in the Core, he’d taken his purge to the Mid Rim. Takodana was a smoldering wasteland, its forests reduced to ashes by the time his military had finished with it. Kashyyyk hadn’t been much better off. The Wookiees had put up a good fight amongst the wroshyr trees, as he’d expected, but for all their strength and valor they’d been no match for the First Order’s might. Gan Moradir had welcomed them, having been overrun by pirates since the days when the Empire had brought order and rule of law to their planet. He’d stayed onboard the _Judicator_ when they’d reached Naboo. Kylo had no interest in seeing Padme Amidala’s homeworld, though neither was he particularly eager to see it destroyed. He’d ordered Hux and his men to make a general sweep of the planet, which they had, but it’d been a quiet endeavor aside from a few suspicious individuals taken as prisoners. He and his Knights had just returned to the _Judicator_ from executing Phorsa Gedd’s High Council for good measure when he’d received an encrypted holo, addressed specifically to fucking _Ben Solo_.

He’d opened it without thought, thinking it had to be from Rey since she was the only one with the gall to call him by that name.

Only Rey hadn’t sent it. General Organa had.

Kylo’s throat had constricted at the sight of the projection: Leia Organa looking regal as ever, now a war general, no longer a senator. Her hands were folded, her hair swept into an up-do and there was a heavy overcoat draped around her shoulders. It’d been ten years since he’d seen her—much as he loathed to recall it, Skywalker had permitted him a visit to Chandrila for his twentieth birthday—and she’d aged so much since then. Mostly in her eyes. For once they were dull; defeated. There was nothing _personal_ in them. It’d been like she was addressing a stranger.

 _Ben,_ she’d started off, her voice sounding haggard even through the holo. He’d stiffened at the sound of his birth name. _I will be transparent from the start: I am contacting you on official grounds, one political leader to another and nothing more. While we may have a shared history, I think we can both acknowledge that it’s well past time to move on, and I think you already have. Like you, I no longer hold any desire to live in the past. I was a fool for not understanding before now. I’ve allowed emotion to cloud my judgement for too long, but not anymore. I finally see things as they are._

A dull, distant ache had bloomed in Kylo’s chest.

_On that note, I would like to take this opportunity to address your conquest of the Core and Mid Rim worlds. If you have chosen this slash and burn strategy per the First Order’s intention to conquer the galaxy with fear and brute strength, that is your prerogative and you are already well on your way. If, however, you have taken to demolishing these worlds and those who live there in hopes that you will find me and those loyal to me in the process: I have an offer for you._

_As you’re probably aware, I have lost many things in my life. I don't think I can stand to lose any more. You saw what happened at Crait. Between you and me: we were decimated. There’s nothing left. We both know where this leads. Nowhere good._

His heart had hammered against his ribcage, mind jumping ahead to where she might be going.

_I’m tired of losing. This has been a difficult decision, but I believe it is the right one._

_I am offering you conditional surrender. I will hand myself over to the First Order and cease all Resistance efforts, under the condition that you allow what few allies I have left to live free without punishment. I’m the one who got them into this mess in the first place; the least I can do is try to get them out of it. I owe it to them and the galaxy. Most days I can’t help but think that if I’d handled things differently from the start, if I’d been a better Senator and mother, we could have avoided all of this death and chaos._

_We will surrender what remains of our fleet and weapons at our makeshift base on Kro Var, where you will also find me waiting with an armistice treaty one basic week from now. Upon its signing and after I am taken into custody, my allies will be free to go. That is my only condition. I won’t bother providing you with exact coordinates. I know you won’t need them._

With that the holo had flickered off, its blue light and General Organa’s voice dissipating into the eerie stillness of his bedchamber. Kylo’s throat was thick as he’d sat there on the edge of his mattress, hands on his knees and staring at the wall but not really seeing. His mind had been elsewhere, spinning over images of General Organa, handcuffed, being loaded onto General Hux’s transport like some sort of livestock to await punishment. Punishment that would fall on _his_ shoulders. Kylo had swallowed. His hands had then balled into fists and he’d stood up, stalking out of the room.

 

Ren had run off.

Of course he had. Fleeing his line of duty was the only thing that impossible, overgrown infant could be relied upon to do. The so-called _Supreme Leader_ and his gang of occultist goons had disappeared down the shoreline, hacking and slashing their way to oblivion knows where, leaving Hux and his officers dumbfounded on the sun-baked plateau. The General pursed his lips and sucked in his cheeks, grinding the soft tissue of his mouth between his incisors.

_What in the bloody Galaxy was Ren’s problem?_

No, he was not going to _stay put_ and wait for the Supreme Leader. Blast it all, there was no way of knowing whether his supposed commander would even return. For all Hux knew, Ren had already caught word of some shiny new relic and summoned a transport to the other side of the Rakata system. No, _staying put_ was absolutely not on the agenda. Hux would not be made a fool of, nor would he obediently wait for Ren to toss him table scraps like some sort of desperate Slakari-hound.

Folding his hands behind his back, he sauntered forward and nudged one of the dead Rakata with the toe of his shiny black boot. The General eyed the corpse for a moment, briefly wondering how a civilization that had once been conquerors of their entire quadrant had managed to fall to such obsoletion. It raised the hair on the back of his neck. “Burn them,” he said, clearing his throat and giving the order to no one in particular. “Burn them all, and collect their armor and weapons for trade. They look valuable.”

Hux wasn’t particularly inclined to clean up Ren’s mess for the umpteenth time either, but, well, neither was there much of a choice. Better to destroy the evidence of whatever mishap had happened here than to let _rumors_ spread. Rumors spelled dissent, and if there was one thing he’d learned from Brendol—his pathetic father—it was that dissent in any form was always inconvenient at best, and disastrous at worst.

Nose angled skyward, Hux strode down the lawn towards the temple while his crew did as he ordered, stripping and looting the corpses before compiling them in the center of the plateau. The corners of his mouth stiffened into a grimace when he stopped abruptly to contemplate the monolith: a physical manifestation of Ren’s petty interests, failures and insolence. Judging by how it was still intact aside from a few vines that’d penetrated its facade, Ren hadn’t been inside yet; perhaps he would return, then.

Whatever it was used for, the temple didn’t look particularly _intriguing_. Of course, Hux had received top marks during his time at the Arkanis Academy and in all of his subsequent training, and he _did_ enjoy history, but his studies had never focused much on religion. Most records pertaining to the Old Republic and the ancient wars had been destroyed by the Empire. Despite the academic in him who mourned the lost knowledge, it was undoubtedly better this way, and perhaps Ren was right about one thing: destruction of old things offered a clean slate upon which to begin anew.

Ren wasn’t the right man for the job, of course, but that matter would be sorted out in time.

Hux tugged at his collar, already sweltering in his woolly regalia under the relentless midday heat of the Rakatan star—Abo, it was called. Blasted thing. If Ren hadn’t allowed his weakness and foolishness to destroy Starkiller Base, perhaps the First Order could have made good use of the star’s energy elsewhere. Heat crept its way into Hux’s cheeks, his fingers curling at his sides. If only he’d left Ren to die then and there, his problems would have ceased long ago.

Hux scowled at the memory of being forced to drag a useless, bloodied Ren from the snowy forest.

“Right then,” he muttered to himself. Well, better to get ahead of things before Ren returned and wasted even more of his time. Hux eyed the temple with precaution as a wave of heat carried the scent of smoke and burning flesh to his nostrils: a scent he was well-acquainted with, but abhorred all the same. Eager for reprieve from the blistering sunlight, Hux moved into the temple’s shadow and glanced over his shoulder at the corpses oddly spread out on the lawn further back from the temple’s entry. It was all very bizarre, but either way, the Rakata were dead and the area was quiet. One of them had been seared to death by the lightning Hux had seen Ren call to the ground, and there had been nothing to take from its body. Hux’s nose wrinkled at it as he faced the temple once more, Rakata Prime’s giant, pockmarked moon hanging in the sky overhead, and he started up the stone ramp.

If there was something _important_ about this temple, Hux didn’t notice it. In fact, it seemed more and more unimpressive the farther he stepped along the ramp. A moment later Hux reached the temple door, a rectangular and square slab, its technology outdated judging by its apparent lack of access pad. He didn’t see a method of entry at all. Glancing over both shoulders and finding himself alone, he frowned and extended a gloved, tepid hand to the stone, giving it a gentle push.

A tremor ran through his fingers, followed by a gravely, rumbling sound just as a fissure appeared in the stone door with a _crack_.

Hux flinched back, watching with intrigue at how the door crumbled and disintegrated in front of him, as if it’d stood undisturbed for millennia, barely holding together and his touch had been enough to shatter it. Seconds later all that remained of it was a pile of rubble and debris at his feet. Cool wind whistled out of the entry, smelling of mildew and stone. A wall of darkness greeted Hux where the door had been. Well, if Ren was going to return better to get a head start on him and discover just how exactly he was wasting the First Order’s time and resources. Hux didn’t know if there would be a better opportunity to do so, and hopefully, put a stop to this madness.

He angled his head over his shoulder and barked a command to his crew, simultaneously beckoning them forward. Then turning back to the looming temple entry he unhitched his blaster from his hip, ignited its glowrod and stepped inside.

 

Droid’s shaking fingers had settled into an easy rhythm on the datapad, as though the man had suddenly dropped into a whole new world made of his own element. Rey stood back under the shadows of the awning that covered his booth, watching intently. She’d drawn the hood of her cloak over Sobu’s helmet when the footfalls of a passing ‘Trooper squadron reached her ears, and thankfully they hadn’t crossed into the alley between the stalls.

Rey glanced toward the sky. Abo was directly overhead. How long had it been?

“Sir,” Droid started, and Rey’s head jolted back down to see him staring back at her through his broken mask. “I… I need more resources than what I have here to slice into this… this is _your_ datapad?”

She blinked behind the helmet and regarded Droid carefully. There was an edge to his words, and she knew he must think it bizarre, if not suspicious that she was struggling to access her own datapad. “Yes,” she said firmly, hoping her modulator sufficiently scrambled the fear and femininity in her voice, though a fist closed around her heart.

A long minute passed over them. The merchants and traders that passed through the alleyway and regarded them with caution went completely ignored, as did the sounds of their chatter, the creak of their cartwheels and the jingle of their trinkets. Droid looked back down and tucked the datapad under his arm, rising to his feet. “I have some keys I can try inside, sir. I’ll be right b-back…. Y-you can wait here….”

He turned around, stumbling on his feet slightly, and disappeared through the threshold to his own workshop. Rey, feeling her stomach churn with nerves, stood blindly for a moment and almost followed him in, but decided against it. She knew that the datapad was heavily encrypted. It was why she needed a slicer in the first place. Instead, Rey rocked back on her heels and drew away from the other merchants into the corners of Droid’s stall, waiting for him to come back outside.

After it seemed half the port had observed her standing as still as a rock by his workshop, Droid came straight back out, fiddling with the datapad and fumbling loudly through a ring of skeleton keys and crypt bypassers, and there was familiar key tied around his wrist….

Anyone else would have thought it a simple thing, but she _knew_ what those were. She'd seen her fair share of them, mostly on Jakku where they'd been stuck onto dead consoles and relics from the past.

“ _Oi,”_ she snapped, before she'd realized what left her mouth. “That’s a tracker!”

Droid's head jerked up. The one eye visible behind his fractured mask was wide with terror.

“You—” Rey almost choked on it, remembering where they were. But Droid was already shaking, practically on his knees, paralyzed by fear.

Rey snatched Droid by the collar and shoved him back inside his workshop. At his yell, she closed its rusted door behind her and wrenched the crumbling mask from his face. Beneath it was a weathered man she’d seen fairly often on the roads of the port. He stumbled and yelped, “Please, Sir! I would n-never—”

“You’re working against the First Order?” she demanded, releasing him. “Trying to slice a tracker into my datapad?”

“No, no, of c-course not—”

“You _are,_ I’ve seen them!”

He shook his head back and forth, frazzled and terrified. “I'll do anything you want, s-sir. A-anything, I—”

With a sharp look over her shoulder to the closed door behind her, Rey slammed a finger into the release trigger on Sobu’s helmet. It sighed open, clicking apart and falling heavily in her hands. “That's _not_ mine,” she said firmly, jerking her chin at the datapad in his hands. “And _you_ were trying to slice into it to get info against the First Order!”

Mouth agape, Droid stood stupidly in front of Rey, eyes switching back and forth at the helmet to the device clenched tightly in his hands.

Then he glanced upward, recognition lighting his older brown irises. “You're that woman from couple days ago.”

Rey regarded him, her eyes shifting between his. “I am.”

“Not a Knight.”

“Absolutely not a Knight.”

Droid visibly relaxed. “You stole this?” he asked, motioning with the datapad. His whole demeanor shifted, as if he'd stumbled across something rare, valuable. The nervousness had vanished. His eyes turned calculating in the snap of a finger; the Droid from before crumbled before Rey’s eyes, even his accent, the words in Basic now touched with a lilt that Rey had a difficult time recognizing. He set the datapad on one of the work benches around them.

Rey, at this point, finally took note of their surroundings. Every corner of the workshop was filled with a droid of some kind, either half taken apart or half put together. There were a couple KX-security droids crammed around one bench, old ones she'd rarely come across on Jakku. None of the droids were operating, as if they were there only for show.

“Answer me,” Droid said.

“Yeah. Yeah, I stole it,” Rey answered quickly. “Er. I took it. He—the Knight died. I took that to get access codes. I _have_ to get off this planet as soon as I can. Can’t keep running around as someone who’s supposed to be dead.”

When she was only met with silence, Rey swallowed, dropping her hands to her sides and letting the helmet hang uselessly from her fingers. Droid scrutinized her so severely she thought perhaps he _was_ working for the First Order, and she’d just made an entirely awful mistake—

He finally moved and motioned to the datapad on the bench. “This thing _certainly_ has a transmitter on it, but I won’t be able to remove it that fast. If you want to get away from them—and I assume you do, because you won’t show your face and it means you, like me, are in hiding from the First Order—then I need to disable it. But I can’t do that here.” Droid breathed in, then picked the datapad up into his hands once more. “Even more importantly, this… this is a goldmine. This is full of First Order operations and intel. _This_ is more than just access codes.” He waved it in the air. “I’ll help you get away from here. But you need to trust me.”

Rey balked, stuttering for a half second. Only moments ago he had been almost in tears at her feet, and now he was giving her _orders_? “I don't even know your name. How am I supposed to trust that you won’t sell me out?”

“People call me Kaytoo,” he replied. “Trusting me? I’ve been doing this since before the Empire fell. But it’s your choice.” With that he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a faded tattoo in black ink. It took Rey a second to recognize it for what it was, but when she did she couldn’t help the smile that warmed her face even through her lingering skepticism.

It was an Alliance Starbird, just like the one on her old rebel helmet.

 

 

 

The minutes clocked by and Rey was still wary of “Kaytoo”, which she strongly suspected wasn’t his given name, but it soon became clear he knew what he was doing and had done it for years; decades even. His worn fingers worked expertly on his own holo which he’d pulled from a hidden drawer under the bench, and she watched him perform some cross-checks from a distance, all the while taking care to stay near to the door.

Her suspicions were waning, however. During her month on Rakata Prime and passing by him occasionally throughout the weeks, he had never appeared… like this, as though he were in hiding, living life as a _spy_.

“Hey,” she piped up, suddenly curious. Kaytoo said nothing, but he paused, eyes drifting toward her in the corner. “If you’re a slicer, why are you just laying around here on Rakata Prime?”

“No reason,” he replied vaguely, his attention drifting back to the datapad and holo in front of him.

“And these droids,” Rey continued, even though he hadn’t given her an answer. “How long have you been here? Do you take them with you wherever you go? Surely you don’t waste transport space taking all of this with you. You could _sell_ these.”

“An intriguing plan,” said Kaytoo. He offered no more than that.

So Rey stood in silence, finding herself glancing out the lone round window with increasing frequency. If Sobu’s death wasn’t known before, it likely was now. The longer she waited, the more chance walking out into the port with Sobu’s mask would drop her straight into danger. “Is there anything I can do?” she said finally. She’d practically pulled Sobu’s helmet apart in her hands in her anxiety.

“No,” Kaytoo replied. “I’ve got the access codes already.”

“You—what?”

“I’ve got them,” he repeated. “I’m trying to disable the transmitter on this. Not so easy getting rid of an encrypted beacon scrambling its frequencies every ninety seconds. Give me that helmet.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do with it,” Rey demanded, growing impatient. “ _Hey_!”

He’d stood up, crossed over to her in three quick steps, and snatched the helmet from her hands. With a single click of the small key around his wrist, he disassembled the modulator chip from the front of it and deftly pulled out a minuscule resistor. He held it up to her: it was a muted orange, two simple wires extending from either side of its cylindrical shape. “This will save your life for the next hour,” Kaytoo told her, stepping back to the bench. Rey observed, mouth open, as he folded the resistor into the access cylinder of the datapad. “It’s a rough patch job, but it should work until we get away from here.”

“So it blocks its own frequency!” Her tone had dropped to an excited whisper, her frustration with Kaytoo vanishing in an instant. It was so simple!

“A narrow band of them,” said Kaytoo. “Used to have to do it while reprogramming security droids. But the resistor’s too small, so it won’t last for a while. The second you get in a transport I can actually work on decrypting the transmitter and get it done before you punch to hyperspeed.” He held Sobu’s helmet out toward her and inclined his head. “Put this on. It won’t work for now, so don’t talk through it. Just walk around and look scary. Might be hard for young people like you, though.”

Rey took the heavy helmet from Kaytoo’s hands and offered him a grateful smile. He huffed in return. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “You still have to get off the planet.”

“Not that I’m desperate,” Rey started, clicking Sobu’s helmet back into place around her head and drawing her hood over it, “but you have a safe place in mind, right?”

“Not sure about ‘safe’, but I have a ‘place’.”

“A hint would be nice,” she muttered.

Kaytoo said nothing; he slipped his own broken mask over his face and handed her the datapad. “Let’s hope the word hasn’t gotten out about the dead Knight of Ren.”

With that, the door opened, and Rey stepped out into the hot afternoon sun to make her way to the docks.

 

Less than a basic day had passed since he’d received General Organa’s holo and Hux, the fanatical disaster, had conjured a brilliant plan to accept the Resistance’s surrender and immediately force all of the remaining Resistance fighters into the First Order’s front lines after the treaty would be signed. “Let them see how futile fighting was in the first place,” Hux had promised. But Kylo had shunned it, stating that the Resistance had _surrendered_ because they couldn’t fight and including them would give dangerous ideas to their own armies, when in reality the thought of manipulating General Organa’s plea for surrender had made him nauseous.

That was when Kylo had felt it: that familiar tug at his mind which told him he wasn’t alone. Luckily he’d been _physically_ alone in his quarters aboard the _Judicator_ , pouring over raid logs when it’d happened. Rey had appeared standing in front of him, face in her palms and shoulders shaking. She hadn’t noticed him at first, even when he’d shot out of his chair. Then she’d stilled, sensing rather than seeing the connection between them before lifting her gaze to his.

He’d struggled to say anything at all, never forgetting how her eyes had been wet with tears: a sight he had grown nauseatingly accustomed to witnessing. Despite everything that’d happened in the past few months, his gut instinct had been to go to her, to wrap her in his arms while she buried her face in his chest until her eyes were dry. But he’d beaten that instinct down, choosing instead to keep his distance from her—a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Oh,” was the first thing she’d uttered, choking down a lump in her throat. Something like shame flickered across her face, something that said _you’re not supposed to see me like this_. As if she’d forgotten that night in the hut on Ahch-To when she’d told him everything. Hadn’t that been the same? She’d have to have _known_ she could be like this around him.

And yet, she’d shut him out. He’d clenched his teeth together, sick to his stomach.

“What is it?” he’d managed. It’d come out wrong, all clinical and formal and he’d hated himself for caring that it did. He’d kept his mouth shut after those three words, clenching his jaw and staring resolutely at her.

She’d just looked at him, unable to say anything through shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. The knife in his gut had twisted deeper as emotion gave way to logic and he recalled their last interactions, reprimanding himself for allowing the sight of her tears to make him momentarily forget the things that’d transpired: how she’d rejected him, clinging instead to the naivety of Skywalker’s teachings and so choosing to abandon him after all he’d offered her. How she’d chosen _them_ over him. How he’d let her go and hadn’t managed to convince her to stay and how he’d lost her like he lost everything else. That look in her eyes as she’d closed the Falcon’s loading bay door.

That look that’d said _I don’t want anything to do with you_.

Heated rage had bloomed deep in his chest, the dark side curling around his insides. “What _is_ it?” he’d snapped again, stalking swiftly to her and looming over her frame.

She’d shied away from him, a motion that’d filled him with hatred—towards her, towards himself, towards Skywalker and the Resistance, even towards fucking Han Solo—towards everything. All of it. The dark side spun even faster in his core, lighting him on fire. In that moment, he’d hated everything. It’d made him lose control.

There had been panic in her eyes, though something about her stricken face told her it wasn’t about _this_ —even when he’d grabbed her bicep, fingertips pressing hard into her skin as he’d searched her face for answers, demanding that she tell him what was _wrong_. Because in that moment, he’d known something was very, very wrong.

“Rey,” he’d said, teeth tight, words gritted, praying she would be the same as she had been before Skywalker had fucked everything up. “ _Tell me_.”

And despite her wide eyes, the beads of sweat congregating on her forehead and the raggedness of her breathing, she’d refused to give him anything.

So he’d taken it instead, needing to know. Without permission he’d slipped into her mind, easier with the bond they shared, shuffling through her memories without any thought or design other than that he _just wanted to know_. It’d only taken a second to discover the source of her distress. It’d been right there, floating on the surface.

Rey had murmured something, a choked rejection, a name he couldn’t hear in the moment. As though she’d been protecting him from something in her head, but he wouldn’t realize it until everything had been lost.

He’d seen General Organa, standing on a sandy, purple-tinged plain amidst heaps of jagged rocks while a thunderstorm brewed in the distance and the wind whipped at her graying hair. _We don’t have any options left, Rey. My allies in the Unknown Regions are our last chance,_ she’d said. _If we can slip past their radars and ambush them, we might be able to take out a significant portion of their leadership,_ _which would destabilize them and make them vulnerable to populist uprising at the very least. Maybe dealing them a significant blow will give the people enough hope to rebel._

Kylo had realized he was seeing through Rey’s eyes, watching General Organa intently as she replied. _But how? They’re not just going to show up where you tell them to_.

 _If we offer the right bait they will_. There had been a strange gleam in General Organa’s eye, and Kylo hadn’t known in that moment if it was his own pulse or Rey’s that was hammering with trepidation. The holo had done the general’s weariness no justice, but the resignation that he had seen in the holo earlier was replaced now with something Kylo had been highly familiar with. A very political look of hers: something unwavering.

 _Bait?_ Rey echoed after a beat.

General Organa nodded. _It’s already in play_.

_How?_

For a moment, the general had looked away, gazing into the distant rumbling clouds, as though heavily weighing her next words. Finally, she’d said, _You’re not going to like it, Rey. But I’ve offered the conditional surrender of myself, and proposed an armistice treaty between the Resistance and the First Order._

Kylo had felt Rey’s own surprise at this confession. It lined up with the holo he’d received from the general earlier, as did Rey’s own shock that the famed General Organa would yield to the First Order. But the words were coming too slow, and he’d felt as if he were watching a holofilm, because surely—

 _I dispatched a transmission to their Supreme Leader this morning,_ General Organa had gone on to say. _It’s likely been received by now. Of course, I’d rather die than surrender to them… but they don’t have to know that_.

As Kylo had nearly prematurely pulled out of Rey’s head with a stagger, he heard her parrot, _Their… Supreme Leader?_

 _As I said,_ continued General Organa, _taking out their leadership might be our only shot at rebuilding. I’m sure he won’t come alone._

Rey’s breath had caught, Kylo’s along with hers. Then Rey, shaking her head slowly as Kylo’s sight seemed to glaze over, said, _How… can you? You mean… you’re going to kill your own son?_

The general’s head bowed, as if the next words had been too difficult to say. _The man razing planets to their cores is not my son, Rey. And we’re all out of options._ And Kylo, about to stumble to Rey’s next words, felt his heart jump—

With a jolt he’d been snapped away from it all, the looming thunderstorm replaced by the empty still air in his chambers. Rey had managed to force him from her head before he saw anything else, but as he’d gathered himself, he realized he’d seen enough. In front of him, Rey had stumbled three or four paces back, baring her teeth and furiously wiping a trail from her wet cheek. He’d never forget the look on her face as she’d stood there, panting with the effort it’d taken to throw him out.

“Rey—” he’d started.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” she’d cut him off, just before dealing a Force blow to his chest that’d sent him tumbling across the room. He’d bit through his tongue, tasting blood when he collided with his floorboards on the other side of the bedchamber. When he’d looked up, Rey was gone.

Those were the last words he’d said to her.

 

 

 

Kylo hadn’t passed through the _Judicator_ in any more of a fashion than as if he were passing through a disbelieving dream. It couldn’t have been real: _Skywalker_ had left him, of course, and perhaps Han Solo until the very last moment, but his mother? It didn’t matter how much she seemed to despise the words that left her mouth. Kylo had selfishly wished to have never heard those words at all, thinking perhaps it’d have been best to leave the thoughts in Rey’s head where they’d been safe and nonexistent until the very end.

As disbelieving a dream as it may have felt, however, it had been all too _real_. He’d torn through the halls of the _Judicator,_ storming into the hangar where his _Silencer_ sat awaiting his angry, trembling hands. Hadn’t Kylo rejected General Hux’s repellent idea of drafting rebels into the front lines and sending them to their deaths? Hadn’t Kylo _accepted_ the plea for an armistice treaty by General Organa, the leader of the Resistance? Hadn’t Kylo been _merciful?_

_Did none of that matter?_

He’d stopped abruptly then, feeling something festering in his gut that had been growing louder ever since he’d seen Rey over their connection in tears. Kylo had needed—he’d needed—he hadn’t had a single fucking clue what he’d needed—

It was then when there’d been a call for him, beckoning him back to his quarters across the other end of the _Judicator._ There he’d taken a private scrambled call from the Resistance, and he’d thought foolishly again that Rey had opted of her own to send him something that told him it had all been a trick. That ridiculous spit of hope in his stomach had threatened to level his attention all over again.

But it hadn’t been anything like that. Instead, it was a glitching holo of an informant Hux had likely hired somewhere in the Core to join the Resistance before all of it had been shredded by his fleets.

 _The c… worlds.... Gener_ — _gana… reinfo_ — _Re_ _sistance based on Malastare,_ the holo had managed to communicate to Kylo, who had forgotten about that system after the battle of Crait where Skywalker had made a fool of him. — _Regions are lik… Millen_ — _Falc_ — _confiscated…_ — _Chandrila_ — _rebuilding eff…._

If there’d been anything of value after that, Kylo hadn’t heard it, as he’d slammed a fist on the disk and the holo fizzed and shut off. _Malastare._ The Resistance had remained near Crait, knowing the First Order would never venture close to that spot. Malastare was well secluded in its own system not too far from Crait and its purple ridges and plains were well recognized among the other Mid Rim worlds. In Rey’s mind, Kylo had vividly remembered the traitorous words leaving General Organa’s lips as they both stood in the looming shadow of a thunderstorm on the Malastare plains.

He’d known it then like he knew the blood lighting through his veins: he would _destroy_ that planet before they could destroy him. Then Rey, on Chandrila as the First Order had detained that junk of a ship from Han Solo, would remain with him as he established a new rule over the Galaxy. She _had_ to. There would be nowhere else for her to go.

Kylo hadn’t known it, of course, but the holo had never mentioned any humans detained along with the Falcon. He’d sent an order from his quarters not long after that demanded a new course be set for Malastare. He’d remembered one thing after it before his Galaxy had fallen apart: he’d halfway wished his mother would not be on Malastare before he recalled bitterly that she had painted a target on his forehead, no matter how much she’d hated doing it.

 

Deep in the temple, Hux came upon a small stone antechamber. Having descended several flights of crumbling stairs, he got the sense that they were below ground now, even if the temple had been nothing but dark and damp since they’d entered it. The General was flanked by a lieutenant and two sergeants, all three of whom had their blasters drawn should they encounter any life forms—not that Hux suspected they would. The place was absolutely decrepit.

“What’s this?” Lieutenant Tavson said to his right. If not for the fact that he was attached to Ren’s shuttle no matter where it went, Hux would have left the pilot back in the capital with the rest of them. But the man was here, and he shone his glowrod on the ground, where what looked like an ancient explosive device of sorts lay attached to a wire.

“Careful, lieutenant,” Hux scolded, upper lip curling back. “ _Please_ don’t go offing us all. Even if it’s likely too old to inflict any harm… can’t be too cautious, now, can we?”

Lieutenant Tavson looked affronted, but he swallowed and nodded just as Hux pointed his glowrod up at the ceiling. _Oh_. Several more of the blasted things were hanging by wire threads from the stone above them. He stared at them and gulped despite himself.

So _this_ was what Ren liked to do for fun: spelunk around in filthy ruins and caverns, dodging booby traps and other mishaps which seemed to serve no purpose other than satiating the whims of an overgrown child. Ren was more insane than he’d initially thought. It was only a pity his misadventures hadn’t killed him yet.

Hux cast a long, reproachful look at the mines before tilting his glowrod down to the door in front of them. It was more of an archway, really; a dark, open passage to what was likely some larger chamber ahead. He noted an ancient text inscribed in the stone around its perimeter—one he didn’t recognize, and something about it raised the hair on the back of his neck.

“Onward then,” he muttered, sounding less confident than he would’ve liked. They’d come this far already. Might as well finish making their sweep. With that he shuffled slowly forward.

He was right. The short passageway opened to a greater chamber, likely the temple’s principle room. As the light from his torch washed the space in a blue glow, he noted it was airy and circular, its walls sloping inward like a cone into darkness, or rather a ceiling that was nowhere in sight. The air was thick and humid, much colder than the temperature outside. Something about the place told him they were its first visitors in several millennia. Already loathing it, Hux shuddered.

Squinting in the dimness, he at first thought the room empty. Then his eyes adjusted and he noticed a single object in its center: a small, slender podium that was apparently empty. _Perhaps the place has already been looted. Pity for Ren_ , he thought smugly, mouth twisting into a smirk. He crossed to the dais anyway, just to be sure.

“What is it, General?” Sergeant Wakrow breathed, as if afraid to speak too loudly. His voice echoed anyway.

“I’m not sure,” Hux replied, eyeing the thing. There was an odd little device lodged in its center: a small little cone with what looked like a circular lens in its center. Something about it was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place what.

Then it clicked.

It was a holoprojector. Hux removed his right glove to feel along the underside and edges of the platform, searching for an on-switch. His fingers brushed over what felt like a chip drive on the podium’s right edge before landing on a larger, circular button. Victorious, he pushed it—and promptly stumbled backwards as blue, grainy light filled the entire room.

For a second he forgot where he was, instantly surrounded by orbs of light—stars—as if he’d been transported away from the temple and left to float through the wastes of space. There were thousands of them, all orbiting a single star in the center which floated just above the holoprojector’s lens.

That’s when he noticed the label just above it—above all of them—in glowing blue font. It was the same illegible, ancient text that had been inscribed around the archway.

He was looking at a Star Map.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a look at the cover art for this story [here!](http://haikoui.tumblr.com/post/172727033575/have-you-hidden-it-away-this-truth-you-seek-its)
> 
> the reception to the last chapter was amazing. we hope the scenes in this chapter gave you all some much needed background info. as always, thank you so much for reading, and we always love reading your speculation :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life has calmed down a bit so we're back to regular updates. enjoy!

“Master,” said Yuzha, “your hand.”

Wordlessly, Kylo let her drop the bacta patches into his palm while he stared, unseeing, at the waves breaking along the shore. Yuzha’s voice was muted and distant, and he hardly noticed as she hesitated a beat, then excused herself to go back inside the Settlement. He’d been sitting there on a sun-bleached piece of driftwood for so long that the tide had come back in, nipping at his boots and threatening to soak his feet if he didn’t move soon, but he wasn’t really there.

It had all happened so fast: the attack at the temple, Hux and his fleet arriving with no time to spare, rushing back to find Sobu withering away, abandoned and mortally wounded on the empty beach.

Their guide, nowhere to be found. All of the memories, swirling in his head.

Kylo was only vaguely conscious of how Mahad had grit his teeth and put Sobu out of his misery, of how Lokka had cried herself to sleep at his side, and how Yuzha and Mahad had been forced to extricate Sobu’s lifeless form from her fingers. He’d felt their attention on him as he’d taken mechanical steps back across the shore from the jungle's undergrowth, hands limp and eyes unblinking as if in a trance, but in that moment he couldn’t have cared less if his Knights lived or died, let alone what they thought of him.

Only one thing mattered. The only thing that had _ever_ mattered; the thing that’d been tearing him apart since before he’d taken his dead master’s throne.

He could barely breathe as his hands started to shake in his lap, his pulse pounding loud and erratic in his ears. It was like she’d reached down his throat, crushed his heart in her fist and torn it from him, leaving him empty, agonized and too stunned to beg for the death he now knew by her fleeing he deserved. His teeth rattled; his jaw shook. Rakata Prime’s star was bright overhead, blistering hot and glaring down on his shoulders, but it may as well have been midnight; his world was upside down and inside out and nothing made sense anymore. Sweat lingered at the corners of his eyes, and his lips parted and grew chapped as an ocean wind whipped salt and sand across his face, tangling his hair.

At some point Yuzha reappeared, her voice demanding he return to the present. “We need to do something about the body.”

His ears were ringing. His temples ached.

When Kylo didn’t reply, only continued staring in silence, Yuzha repeated herself; Kylo said nothing, and Mahad pulled Yuzha away to murmur something in her ear. From the corner of Kylo's eye, he saw them pick Sobu’s willowy figure from the sand and wade out into the water. They said a few indiscernible words, then cast him off into the waves and watched as the current drew his body farther from the shore. Lokka, asleep against the bloodied boulder, stayed that way until the other two Knights sloshed back across the sand. A circle of vultures had formed overhead, swirling and waiting to pick at the carrion that littered the beach. Mahad bent low, whispered an apology, and sent Lokka into a deeper, Force-induced sleep. Every so often Kylo’s Knights glanced at him, helmets off and their eyes asking questions he refused to answer; questions he didn’t know whether or not he _could_ answer.

The memories looped again, again, again. Every one of them, so palpable and clear, sharp and bright in his mind’s eye.

He didn’t register when Yuzha and Mahad moved inside the Settlement, or how his wet robes started to float in the tide around his ankles, or how his stomach ached with hunger, all twisted in knots, his lips caked with bile since he’d heaved its contents away. It was like he’d been cast from his own flesh and sent back to the past, trapped in a never-ending mind loop where he was forced to endlessly relive the moment he’d lost everything. The wound was reopened, raw and exposed, and there would be no recovery this time.

Rey.

 _She’s alive_.

The realization poured into him like a newborn’s first breath, filling him to the brim as he gasped, choking and sputtering and shaking, and suddenly he was _here_ and it was _now_ and _no,_ he wasn’t dead and everything was so, _so_ real.

And she was gone. Willingly. Slipped through his fingers again, like fucking Jakku sand through a sieve.

Kylo slid forward, boneless, to land with a _thud_ on his knees in the shallow tide. Yuzha’s bacta patches sat waiting in his good hand and he glanced at them, as if realizing for the first time that they were there. He moved to peel one open and struggled with it, fingers shaking and arms weak as the water lapped at his kneecaps and calves. The pain in his right hand thudded straight to his chest. “No,” he bit out, his dirt-ridden nails scraping uselessly over one of the patches. The longer he tried, the more his hand shook, the more he trembled, the more he felt his breath escape him in short gasps—“No, no, _no_ —”

A pathetic, strangled sound escaped him as he dropped the patches, his hands to his sides, no longer feeling the burn of his wound. The wet sand around him glimmered in the sunlight as he blinked, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. For the first time in years, he didn't know what to do. He had _no idea_ what to do. He didn't have a clue what was happening in his head, didn't know why the galaxy was doing this to him—

What was he _supposed_ to fucking do?

He still couldn't believe it. Years of empty living and yet… and yet it had all been a lie. All for nothing. It had to have been a cruel joke—someone, Snoke, _anyone_ was twisting his mind, the way it’d been twisted in the past. He'd imagined it like he'd imagined the girl in that Rakata's head—

—but _fuck_ , that had been _real_ , hadn't it?

_Hadn't it?!_

Kylo's throat caught before he saw double, triple of his knees below him through glassy eyes. His hands hadn’t stopped quivering. They wouldn't stop. They wouldn’t fucking _stop!_ “It's not… _c-can’t…_ " he said to no one. He was gasping, chest shuddering, eyes wide and aching, desperate for air as he fell forward, hardly managing to catch himself on open palms, not noticing how the sand and pebbles ground into his wound or how the cold water shocked his skin.

It was real. It was all _real_ : Lokka had seen it too, and she would have no problem reminding him of it, even if she didn't know exactly who she was looking at. It was all real, and he should have been _happy_ , it should have been a relief, it should have been so many things—

—instead it was a fucked up nightmare.

The shame began to fill him, as did the dread, lodging like a stone in his throat and then sinking to the bottom of his empty gut. Not even a full day ago, she'd been right next to him. She'd _seen him like this_ , heard him lament over a girl—over _her_!—and had slipped away, just like that, she'd never wanted to be there in the first place—of course she hadn’t, why the fuck would she—after words spilled from his loosened lips, words he would never would have dared say to anyone in his right mind, and _fuck—_

It was the highest betrayal. How _could_ she? And _why_? Was he—was he _that_ awful? They'd understood each other, at least to an extent. At least Kylo had thought so. And yet it had all been _nothing_.

His submerged fingers curled into fists, sand lodging under his nails which dug into the rawness of his injured palm. While he locked himself away in trauma after what had happened on Malastare, she had been purposefully hiding herself from him, doing Force knows what for the last four years. When he could have _helped_ her! When she fucking _knew_ that he would have given her the help she needed!

He would have given her _everything_.

The wetness of his eyes didn't disappear, not even when his dripping, jittering fingers slipped into his hair and pulled at his scalp until he saw red and a headache started to pound behind his eyes. He rocked back onto his calves, pants soaked through with water and stared straight into the sun. She had no right— _none_ —and she'd taken advantage of him, let him waste away as she left him like everyone else did—

No. _No_ , he wouldn't let her get away, not again. She had to be there. She was alive, wasn't she? So she had to still be there—he yanked at his head, squeezing his eyes shut, praying, _hoping_ —he reached forward in his mind, felt the tendrils of his end of the bond unfurl into where he remembered she'd been so long ago—

Empty.

He groaned, withheld a pained, furious shout.

Kylo tried again.

Empty.

And again.

Empty. He curled into himself, a whine leaving the back of throat. Again— _again_ —

“Master!” came Mahad’s distant voice, approaching from somewhere behind him.

“ _No_ ,” Kylo said hoarsely; his voice splintered and shattered, and suddenly, Mahad’s feet were thundering toward him at three times the speed.

“Master, _your hand_ ,” Mahad all but bellowed at him. He swung his broadsword into the sand above the tide’s sea-foam edge, treading into the shallows to approach Kylo, and was immediately blasted backward by the Force; Kylo’s quivering, blistering hand had rocketed Mahad halfway across the shore. Blood from his palm trickled down his wrist and into his sleeve, mixing and running with the water droplets that clung to his skin.

“Supreme Leader,” Mahad gasped from where he’d landed in the shallows, now as soaking wet as Kylo and taking care to raise his voice, “don’t take this the wrong way, but have you lost your fucking mind?” Mahad pushed himself back to his feet, dripping all over and charged straight back to Kylo through the breaking waves.

Kylo didn’t look at him. He had lost his mind, hadn’t he?

He deserved nothing less.

“I did it,” he murmured through the thickness in his throat. The whole Galaxy’s worth of liquor couldn’t have made him more pathetic. “I did it.”

“What did you do?” Mahad pried apart a bacta patch, lifted Kylo’s right hand from his side and wrapped it around his palm. The bacta stung, but immediately after began to soothe the ache. Kylo wished it didn’t. He deserved to hurt. He wanted to rip the patch right off his skin, his lack of energy the only thing stopping him.

“Get up,” Mahad said, bending down in an attempt to sling an arm around Kylo’s torso, but Kylo threw a hand up, stopping him again with invisible wall—though this time with less force.

“No,” Kylo managed, voice barely more than a whisper. He’d done it. It was _his_ fault. He’d made her run from him. He’d terrified her, sent her scrambling to the edges of the galaxy so she could have a chance to live. Of course she would never join him after what he’d done to the Resistance. When he’d killed his old master and taken his place aboard the _Supremacy,_ she’d shown him as much. She’d made her priorities explicitly clear. What had he been _thinking_? The pattern had continued, and months later on Malastare, she’d chosen the Resistance over him once again.

Pathetic. That’s what he was.

This should have ended years ago. He should have given it all up then. Clearly she had.

 _Foolish boy_. His dead master’s words echoed in his head, sending a chill racing up his spine despite the heat.

Snoke had been right. Scorching white stars skittered across Kylo’s field of vision, a rush of blood to his head threatening to sweep his consciousness away. _Snoke was fucking right_.

“Master.” Mahad’s hand landed heavy on Kylo’s shoulder. “Come inside. You need to eat something.”

Kylo shrugged Mahad’s hand away more violently than necessary, but after a moment’s hesitation he managed a nod and staggered to his feet with a splash—his boots were several inches deep in water. He nearly tripped over his robes in the tide, stumbling a bit before catching himself and, when Mahad’s mouth opened for undoubtedly more smart talk, Kylo shot a withering glare through his quickly spiraling anger.

White-hot rage blinded him, his breath coming out shallow and ragged. He wouldn’t be _foolish_ any longer—he’d find her. She couldn’t have gotten far; a few hours had passed but she was _here_. She’d been _right here_. There was no way she’d managed to catch a transport offworld yet. He clenched his fists so hard they shook, knuckles bone-white as tremors of pain shot up his arms, shaking them too.

The port. Kylo jerked his head back over his shoulder, glancing towards the treeline. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere else; there was nowhere else nearby to catch a transport, unless she had one stashed away in the jungle somewhere. Even then, he’d ordered Hux’s forces to intercept and board any ship that tried to leave.

Kylo’s attention flickered to where his comlink was clipped to his waist. He loathed that despite everything he’d learned, he still had to go on as if everything was the same. He still had to deal with… _Hux,_ the last person in the entire galaxy he wanted to talk to.

But Hux controlled the fleet, and the general’s shuttle would get him to the port much quicker than if he went on foot. Kylo breathed heavily in through his nose, finally managing to subdue his trembling, and com’d him.

“Ah,” Hux’s pinched voice pierced the speaker. “Supreme Leader. I have sufficiently scoured the temple on your behalf, and despite all my efforts, found little of interest—”

His words hit Kylo like a brick to the face, whose mouth fell open as his brain took a second to register them. For a second, thoughts of Rey evaporated. “You _what?”_

Hux cleared his throat. “I _said_ I have sufficiently scoured the temple. On your behalf.”

Kylo went silent in disbelief; again he found himself doubting that any of this was happening—that it wasn’t some nightmare, some fucked up dream from which he hadn’t yet woken. But the grating of Hux’s voice against his eardrums was very much real, and of course the universe was going to kick him while he was down. “How?” he managed, pointedly ignoring the odd look Mahad gave him. Mahad shifted his weight, leaning on his broadsword.

“What do you mean _how_?” said Hux.

Kylo’s fingers curled tight around the comlink, his shaking hand—fuck his temper—threatening to crush it. Deliberately, tongue curling around every syllable, he said, “How did you get inside?” Then, cursing under his breath, he said, “We’ll discuss this later. Just prepare your shuttle for departure.”

“There was a door, Supreme Leader. I used it.” Hux’s answer was clipped.

With one swift gesture Kylo flung the comlink into the ocean, not caring to hear whatever other garbage General Hux had to say. He’d find out for himself.

“Get the others,” Kylo scathed as he brushed past Mahad, starting down the beach. “We’re leaving.”

 

The sour scent of overbaked nerf-milk cheese lingered in Finn’s nostrils, as it always did by the end of the day as of late. The merchant next door to his newly set-up trade shop was a dairy trader who had a bad habit of leaving his nanowave stove on for a little too long. Sometimes the Caamasi male would bring his leftovers by after he’d closed shop rather than toss them out—Caamasi were too friendly for their own good—and Finn didn’t mind the stuff too much. It was better than the self-warming Stormtrooper rations he’d grown up on, that was for sure, and you couldn’t be too picky these days, but… something about nerf cheese and the overly polluted Coruscanti air just didn’t mix well.

Glancing up into the sea of buildings, Finn could just barely make out an orange sliver of sky. The sun would set soon. He drew the grey hood of his cloak over his head, reached for the cord that would pull his shop window shut and—

“Wait a sec,” a gruff, modulated voice ordered from his left. Finn turned to see a male-looking, humanoid figure clad in a brown flexsuit and matching helmet. He couldn’t see the individual’s face; their visor was too dark. There was something tucked under their left arm: a package, from the looks of it.

“I’m about to close shop. Can I help you?” asked Finn, who was no stranger to odd sorts of folk turning up at his booth for spare tools or parts.

“You the parts guy?” The figure inched closer.

Finn leaned forward across the shop window countertop, resting on his elbows. “Yeah. That’s me. What do you need?” From where Finn stood in the booth, he was a head or so higher than the customer.

The person cleared their throat. “Looking for Haysian smelt?”

Finn blinked. That was the code he and Rose had decided on when they’d put their shop together, circulating it for Resistance efforts. It was rare enough that it was highly unlikely anyone would ask for it unless they were looking for… something else. Finn straightened, schooling himself to be deliberately expressionless. It wasn’t hard to do; he’d had plenty of experience as a Stormtrooper and in the years he and Rose had been hiding on Coruscant. “Don’t have any in right now,” he told the customer, “but I could order some if you know where I might find it.”

More code. The message, though, was clear. _What planet are you corresponding with?_

The visitor was prepared and inclined their head. “Lothal,” he replied cordially. “You’ll find some on Lothal.”

“Easy enough. Thanks.” Finn contemplated the visitor for a moment, slightly unnerved by the customer’s disguise—not that he wouldn’t mask his identity if the situation were reversed. Rebellion was treason, and getting caught meant death. Besides, Rose had coordinated this. If he couldn’t trust her, what was he doing?

He shoved the thought away at that and instead passed the customer a datapad. “Alright, just enter your name and contact information here.” He tapped on the screen with a grey-gloved hand. “That’ll be two hundred credits, or a standard barter equivalent. What’s in the box?”

“Tools,” the customer replied vaguely, as if Finn were expecting much better. “Got a friend in need.” With that, they swiped on the datapad screen and finalized the info before exchanging goods, box, and a sum of credits.

Finn kept his face stoic. “We’re settled, then. I’ll give you a com when it’s in.” He cast a glance down at the datapad, where instead of a name he saw an address—the package’s intended destination. Then he gave the customer a slight but reassuring nod, tugged on the window cord, and finally closed shop.

 

 

Rose wasn’t there when he got home, so he went to the conservator to see if there was anything he could pull together for dinner. The shelves were for the most part bare, aside from a jar of expired wintenberry jelly, a loaf of ksharra bread and Rose’s half-eaten Kowakian crumb cake from Dex’s Diner—which he knew she would kill him if he touched. Sighing, he opted to heat up a canister of Pukkha broth which they’d salvaged from the Millennium Falcon’s galley—one of the last remaining. Luckily, one can was big enough for both of them to share.

When Rose strode in through the blast door of their loft a half hour later, it was with an uncharacteristically grim expression. Finn stood when he saw her, forgetting his soup. “What is it?” he asked immediately.

“Bad news,” Rose muttered, standing silently in the middle of their loft. Finn crossed over to her and drew her into a comforting embrace. At that, she wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest. Voice muffled, she told him, “The First Order’s taken the Rakata system. I just met with Celede, who told me.” She paused, having to take a breath, and Finn ran his hands up her back encouragingly. “Finn, they’re expanding through the Unknown Regions,” she finished, voice breaking.

Finn brows drew together as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “Didn’t we know that already?”

“Sort of,” came her voice. “But we didn’t know they’d taken the whole system. That on top of Lothal… Finn, they’ve almost taken the entire galaxy. Every time a planet falls, potential allies fall with it.” Rose’s hands fisted in his shirt, and a second later he heard her sniffle.

Finn pressed a kiss to Rose’s temple and held her tighter. He thought of how to make it better. For so long it had been Rose who would stay positive and keep pushing through, but everything was just so… exhausting. If it hadn’t been for her, Finn would probably be cowing away from the First Order with fear if he weren’t already dead. “I know, Rose,” he said, humming to himself when she hiccuped. “I know. The odds are against us. They have been from the start.” He pulled back to cup the sides of her face, seeing her red-rimmed eyes—she’d been holding herself together until she came home into the loft. “But this isn’t the first time the galaxy’s been threatened. We have to remember what General Organa used to say: hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

Poe used to quote General Organa, too. It helped light a tiny smile to warm Rose’s face. Rubbing at the corners of her eyes, she admitted, “I know. It’s just so hard sometimes.”

His heart sank. He knew how she was feeling to the bone. Whatever strength he’d had for the future and belief that it would all get better was sometimes only done for Rose’s sake, like it was now. Finn knew what they were up against perhaps better than anyone. He was well aware of how bleak the future looked. Most days, looking out the window of their flat was like staring into an abyss. But Rey, Poe, General Organa and the rest of the Resistance hadn’t died for him to let the First Order spread like the plague it was. Rose had taught him that, and he’d support her through it no matter how hard it seemed to be for the both of them. So long as his heart was beating, he’d keep up the fight in whatever ways he could. However small. He had to.

The enormous mountain of thoughts in his head were suddenly broken by a quiet grumble from Rose’s belly.

She squeaked. “Oh, geez.”

Finn guffawed and gently tugged her over to the table. “Can’t fight the First Order on an empty stomach, Rose!” He raised his eyebrows at her and filled her empty bowl with Pukkha broth. “Eat with me.”

“Eugh. This stuff’s the worst.” Rose forced a laugh as she took it and sat down.

“Hey, if it was good enough for Han Solo, it’s good enough for us.”

This time, Rose’s laugh was genuine. “That’s not saying much, is it?”

Finn’s mouth fell open in feigned incredulity, but his eyes caught the Resistance ring on Rose’s finger and he immediately recalled the stranger who’d appeared at his shop window earlier. “Actually, I have some good news. We received some business today. The Resistance kind.”

Rose glanced up from her bowl where she’d been wrinkling her nose at the soup. Her eyes brightened. “ _Really_? Who?”

Finn shrugged. “Never gave me a name and I couldn’t see his face. He gave me a package addressed to Lothal. Now that I think about it, it’s a little weird how much has been happening with Lothal recently….”

“Have you opened it?” Rose leaned forward.

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.” He grinned at her; she beamed back.

Then she practically jumped out of her seat. “Come on! Let’s look!”

Finn stood again and crossed to the sleeper, bending down and reaching under it to where he’d hidden the package. He pulled it closer and brought it to the table. For a small moment, both of them eyed it with caution, wary as to what they might find inside. Neither of them were used to smuggling yet. Finn could almost hear Han Solo telling them to open it already and _get a move on with it, kid._ “You do the honors,” said Finn, putting a hand on Rose’s shoulder.

“Okay,” she replied, pressing her lips together and nodding, even though her hands were shaking somewhat. She took the package in her small hands, undoing the bindings with care so that she didn’t ruin them. “Pretty light package,” she observed out loud. “What's this supposed to be?”

“The answer I got was 'tools’,” Finn told her.

Rose undid the last binding and pried the lid off. Inside the box was empty, aside from a piece of paper. _Paper!_

Finn watched her snatch it from the box, feeling it over with her thumbs. She’d probably never seen paper before. Neither had he. The closest he'd gotten was three years ago when they'd been on the run and off of Coruscant. Paper was incredibly rare… almost a luxury. A luxury because it could be burned.

“What’s it say?” he asked, leaning forward over her shoulder and squinting.

Rose didn’t look at him. “Coordinates. It’s a pair of coordinates.” She turned the small sheet over, finding the back side blank.

“Coordinates to what?”

“I have… no idea. It doesn't say.” Rose looked over her shoulder at him. The small slip of paper in her hand was taunting him.

Finn grit his teeth together. “Let’s memorize them, just in case. And then we’ll smuggle it off from the engineering shop tomorrow.” Okay. Okay, they could do this. “I hear Lothal’s in need of some parts.”

Rose’s face split into another grin right back at him. The whole room lit up with it, as if a small flame of hope had lit on the paper between her fingers. The broth back on the table had long gone cold but Finn, for the first time in a while, was warmed to the core.

 

Rey glanced over her shoulder again, losing count of how many times she'd done it. Her neck complained viciously but her limbs were alight with adrenaline. She grew more nauseous with every minute that passed as the silence buzzed and itched inside her head, begging to be answered, as if the bond had been opened—but it hadn't been, because her head was aching with the pain she _knew_ would disappear the second she opened it. With Kylo’s presence it had been painful to stay cut off, but she'd managed to temper it in the day she'd spent with him so near.

She'd gotten used to it.

And wrenching away from it was tooth-numbingly difficult. It'd been relief, at first, but something had shifted, as if the whole planet was demanding her to open herself back up—as if it knew how close they'd been. She refused to oblige. She needed to get offworld, _fast_.

 _We don’t have much time, Kaytoo,_ she wanted to tell him under Sobu’s mask as they passed quietly yet briskly through the marketplace, but she couldn't speak without a working helmet. He’d stopped to duck into a booth, and now was _absolutely_ _not_ the time to be admiring trinkets. The female Rakata shopkeeper leered at her, something like reverence in her eyes. It chilled Rey to the bone.

A second later, a squadron of Stormtroopers passed by with blasters in hand. Kaytoo didn’t look at her until they’d gone, and when he did he didn’t speak, but the way he cocked his head was deliberate: _Pay more attention._ Rey’s shoulders were about to slump when she caught the Rakata shopkeeper staring again. Rey straightened, trying to emulate a gesture of a Knight of Ren. They were always so cocky, so haughty, marching around like they owned the galaxy.

They took after their leader.

Except, she realized a moment later, Sobu had never stood quite as straight as the rest unless Kylo was staring straight at him. She slouched over just a bit and had to refrain from retorting at Kaytoo's narrowed eye when she spent too long finding a happy balance, attempting to recall how Sobu acted when Kylo wasn't around.

But Kylo, it seemed, was _always_ around. It was excruciatingly hard not to think of him as Rey followed Kaytoo out of the booth and onward towards the docks. His presence was everywhere, in the ‘Troopers that marched up and down the alleys of the bazaar, in the Officers that barked demands and insults at the merchants, and in the swarms of TIE fighters that came and went overhead. He’d taken Rakata Prime for his own.

Clouds moved across the previously blue sky. The temperature started to drop. The sun was low on the horizon now and Rey could see a storm was brewing in the east, striking her with a pang of disappointment. She’d be offworld by the time the storm arrived if Kaytoo pulled through… and it made her sad.

Rey loved the rain. It reminded her of Luke. Ahch-To. The time when her friends were still alive.

“This way,” came Kaytoo’s lilted murmur, so low only she could hear. She followed him into the shadows of the sea wall on the edge of the market. He stopped in a rubble-filled dark corner before a break in the wall that would provide them access to the docks. After inspecting it carefully, he turned to her and lifted his mask ever so slightly so she could see his face. “This is where I leave you,” he said.

Rey’s stomach plummeted. “What?” she demanded under her breath, forgetting his order not to speak. Thankfully there was nobody near enough to hear them.

Kaytoo pointed at the sky. “They’re everywhere. You’ll never make it offworld without something to distract them. They’ll know an unregistered departure the second they see it.”

Her blood thudded through her veins, icy cold. The fact that she'd have to go through the rest of this alone hadn't even occurred to her since she ran back into Kaytoo and learned who he really was. Despite herself, she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. Her hands were gripping the old man’s shoulders before she knew what she was doing. “You—but _how_ am I going to make it to Lothal without you? Who in the galaxy am I looking for? You have to come with me. We have to _leave_!”

Kaytoo's eye flashed behind his broken mask and he took her hands, firmly, returning them to her and glancing either way to make sure no one had seen this odd gesture of affection from a Knight of Ren. Rey stepped back quickly once he'd done so, just to make sure she wouldn't do it again. She glared hard through Sobu's visor instead, as if it would change anything. She hoped it would.

It didn’t, because she heard Kaytoo breath heavily from his nose before he told her, “I’m older than the Empire. I’ve done all I can. I should have died a long time ago, as most in my occupation do.” He motioned to the rubble behind him. “I came to this planet as a lookout and I never expected to leave. I figured that eventually Rakata Prime would end up like this, especially with my luck.”

“You could help me start a rebellion,” Rey begged him. “You—”

“That right there”—Kaytoo pointed to Sobu’s datapad in Rey's hands—“is your start. That's a lot more than I could give you, and a lot more than we could hope for. Rebellions are built on hope.”

“I can't do this alone. I—”

“We're wasting _time_ ,” hissed Kaytoo. “If we don't do this now, we'll _both_ die. And I don't know about you, but I want to die on my feet, instead of on my knees.”

A tear slid down Rey’s cheek as she tried to blink it away. She was going to be abandoned, again, and it stung. Even if she knew he was right: there was no way she would make it off this planet alive without his help—especially without the Force. “So—so what are _you_ going to do?”

Kaytoo cast off his mask, letting it clatter to the ground to reveal his silver hair. There was a peculiar glint in his eye as he looked at her and angled his jaw past the rubble. “What I was made for. You see that INT-66 transport? Corellian Engineering, best in the galaxy.”

_Corellian. Just like the Falcon._

“It’s got the big guns,” Kaytoo continued. “I stole that one from an Imperial Officer I killed during the Battle of Scarif. Lost a lot of friends that day, even a cousin I never even knew I had. Those of us that lived got by with the skin of our teeth.” His expression changed, like he was no longer seeing Rakata Prime. Then, blinking, he added, “It got me outta there. I trust it’ll get you to Lothal. Just wait for my signal. You got that?”

“Your signal?” Rey echoed, not sure she understood him.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” He squared his shoulders and gave her the access codes to his transport and the name of a contact on Lothal before starting along the retaining wall towards the far end of the beach. He got several steps away from her before pausing. When he looked back at her, Rey’s stomach dropped with dread; he was ready to die. “I almost forgot,” he started as Rey tried to think of a million reasons to stall him. “I had a cloaking device custom installed. Should get you past their radars. _Do not forget about it_.”

Rey, mind going blank, nodded.

“Godspeed,” he said, and then he was gone, and there was nothing distracting Rey from the ache in her head and the looming terror about to detonate through the air.

 

It was the middle of the day, but darkness soured the air around Kylo’s form, beckoned to his fingertips as he made his way across the plateau to where he’d left General Hux. His footsteps were brisk but heavy, thudding over singed grass and displaced soil as he passed the charred remains of the Rakata he and his Knights had slain earlier. He didn’t need to see what he looked like; he already knew his colorless expression was drawn tight, his lips set in a grimace.

Hux’s smug, punch-begging face was waiting on the other end of the plateau. “Supreme Leader,” Hux greeted him, cheeks sunburned and forehead beaded with sweat.

Kylo came to a stop just inches from Hux’s face. The general’s lips pressed together, before he repeated, “Supreme L—”

“How?” spat Kylo. The Force trembled around his clenched fists, begging to let go on the general’s red face.

Hux’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“HOW”—Kylo lurched a hand forward, _screaming_ —“DID YOU _GET INSIDE_?” His fingers jerked, gripping the general’s throat with intangible Force. Hux gagged, falling to his knees.

“Sup—preme—L-Leader,” he choked and spluttered, eyes bulging, frantic hands flying to his throat as he grasped at nothing. His subordinates stood still behind him, terrified.

Kylo didn’t care what he looked like in that second. He knew, perhaps, that his irises were tinged with amber as he squatted to meet the general’s eyes and that his cheeks were shaking as he grit his jaw together. He refused to relinquish his grip; rather, he tightened it. Hux made a strangled noise, face going scarlet, while Kylo’s voice lowered to a ragged, deathly whisper. “Tell me how you got into the temple, or I will not _hesitate_ to kill you right now.”

“Master,” Kylo heard Yuzha say from over his shoulder. “I do not think—”

“QUIET,” he shouted, eyes plastered on Hux’s writhing form. In that moment, his Knights were as disposable to him as the general.

“Just kill him,” Lokka muttered, and Hux, unable to speak, glanced at her in horror.

Kylo dropped the general and shot up, simultaneously whirling on Lokka and tearing his lightsaber from his belt, nearly biting his tongue in the process. He ignited it in a flash, raising the sparking crossguard above his head, eyes wild— _she knew_ , she’d seen, and he should just rip her in two _right now_ —

A furious sound tore from his throat and he charged, swinging the blade down. Lokka didn’t move.

A blade caught Kylo’s before his could land. Yuzha had ignited her own blade, shooting in front of Lokka and pushing back against his ‘saber with great effort. “Master!” she implored, voice laced with labor as she tried to shove him away. “ _Think!_ You’re not… in your right... mind!”

Kylo’s eyes switched back and forth from Yuzha to Lokka, mind racing as his body struggled to catch up. Lokka’s eyes were wide and glassy, staring through Kylo and Yuzha, and to the side was Mahad, whose feet were planted firmly to the ground but whose hand, Kylo saw in a haze, had moved to his weapon. A grunt from Yuzha drew Kylo’s eyes back forward; she maintained a defensive stance while his blade continued crackling down on hers. The glow of it reflected in her brown eyes, firm and determined and recalling another time and _all wrong_ —

The Supreme Leader’s eyes squeezed shut, desperately willing the memory away. He exhaled a sharp, forceful breath through clenched teeth—some of the pain left, like breathing out a shard of glass—and dropped his hands. There was a silence in his head that ached, _itched._ Kylo collapsed his weapon and clipped it back to his belt, refusing to meet his Knights’ eyes.

A cool wind swept off the sea, rustling the grass on the plateau. Kylo twisted to see a thunderstorm had started to brew out over the ocean. Whitecaps appeared on the surface of the water, beyond the edge of the plateau where Hux was still on his knees. Kylo’s gaze fell to him as Hux heaved over the grass, then flickered to the charred pile of Rakata corpses, where the One was among them somewhere in the rotting, decaying mass.

The One, whose sharp teeth had been this close to tearing him apart.

 _You must give up that which matters most_.

“His blood,” Kylo murmured more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes were locked onto where he suspected the One was lying dead in the littered graveyard. “It must have been the key.”

Yuzha, unaffected from what had happened only seconds earlier, appeared at his side. “The wall died with its Keeper,” she said with a nod.

“Oho.” There was a low chuckle from Mahad. He planted his broadsword in the ground next to them and leaned on the hilt. “Piece of shit valued nothing more than his own life.”  

Several paces away, Hux rocked back onto his knees, wiping a trail of drool from his mouth. His breathing was staggered. “It... was empty, Supreme Leader. Unless you’re… wanting to temper with landmines, I think we… can move on,” he managed, completely pitiful. Kylo hoped someone would rip out the dull hair that fell into Hux’s bloodshot eyes.

“As it happens, I have more pressing interests,” muttered Kylo, who no longer cared much that Hux had only stumbled into the temple after Kylo had apparently done all the hard work himself. Now that the matter had been settled, his mind was no longer distracted—his stomach lurched at the thought of what might happen if he actually intercepted Rey.

A small part of him didn’t want to find her. Didn’t want to know what would happen when he did. He pushed that part of him down, squandering it under the words from his old master. _Foolish boy_. Kylo’d already wasted too much time, and he wasn’t about to be bested again. His lips curled back in disgust. If she wanted something to run from, he would give it to her. “As I said, I am taking your transport, General. See to it this mess is sufficiently dealt with.”

Heels swiveling, Kylo started towards the shuttle at the far end of the plateau, robes catching on the rising wind as the storm brewed over the ocean. His Knights fell in line behind him. Kylo chose to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt when Lokka, all grudges seemingly dissipated, folded herself into Mahad’s side, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder as they walked. Yuzha kept to herself.

Kylo’s fingers twitched as he boarded the shuttle. The silence in his head had started to creep down into his limbs, burrowing under his skin where it dug deeper and festered, more alive than it had been before. Fuck. He wanted it _out_. It was as physical as any other illness: sweat and aches and feverishness swam over him as he took a seat in the transport.

He sat with a white-knuckled grip on the armrests while Hux’s pilot ran through his pre-flight checks, the drone of the engines doing nothing to drown out his thoughts. There was only one, really. Just one word. A name, one that’d haunted him for years.

She was a cancer, eating him alive, and he had to claw her out of his bones. He didn’t care what it cost.

 

Gael had always had a feeling he would die in battle. If there was one thing sixty-three years of living had taught him, it was that there would always be something to fight. Peace didn’t exist, _wouldn’t_ exist so long as greed and the thirst for power was alive and well in men’s hearts. Even as a young child on Coruscant, his mother, a record keeper in the Old Republic’s archives, had tucked him into bed with stories and legends of the ancient galaxy—of ancient wars between Jedi and Sith, Republics and Empires, and all of the blood spilled over the years.

She’d been one of the first to recognize the shift of power in the Galactic Senate, growing paler and more sleepless in the months after Senator Palpatine had taken his seat as Chancellor. _There’s something off about him_ , she would say when she returned home to their flat at night. _I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it_. Her instincts had been right. Gael remembered well the evening the Jedi Temple burned, the smoldering embers of its ruin glowing against a vermilion sunset. That night, he and his mother had left Coruscant for the last time, fleeing instead to Alderaan where he'd finally met his uncle. He’d been ten years old. “You're the spitting image of Jeron,” his uncle had told him after he'd recounted how he’d been captured on Fest, lost his son, and escaped to Alderaan.

Gael had joined the Rebellion four years later, a few days after his fourteenth birthday. It hadn’t been much of a Rebellion then, when a droid had given him the Alliance Starbird tattoo in some kitchen in Crevasse City. Rumor on Alderaan was Senator Bail Organa himself had formed the Alliance to Restore the Republic, and over the years Gael had come to learn that his daughter, Princess Leia Organa, had begun using her diplomatic immunity to carry out Rebel missions in restricted Imperial systems. If only he’d known then all she would do for the galaxy. It was one of his greatest regrets that he’d spent the later half of his childhood on Alderaan and never bothered to see her with his own eyes. That, and that her parents Bail and Breha—whose rallies he _had_ attended, with his politically active mother—had never lived to see all she would become.

Years passed, and the war waged on.

He’d been twenty-nine at the Battle of Scarif, and most of his friends had died that day. Hope had almost died with them. With the Rebel Alliance nearly annihilated, he’d been forced to flee to the Outer Rim, ditching his official identity and adopting the nickname Kaytoo instead. It had been a droid’s, one that’d been particularly useful in retrieving the Death Star’s blueprints with his long-lost cousin. It wasn’t until later that he’d learned Alderaan had been obliterated by the Emperor’s new weapon, his mother and home perishing in the blast. His uncle hadn't been on Alderaan when it had happened—he’d been killed years earlier on Carida after attempting to find his son.

Gael missed all of it every day.

After several years of smuggling, slicing and drinking his sorrows away, _Kaytoo_ had landed on Rakata Prime. The destruction of the second Death Star had brought a sense of peace to the galaxy, as had the establishment of the New Republic, but Gael had known by then that greed and the thirst for power were never far from man’s mind. So when the First Order had risen from the ashes of the Empire, he’d been more exhausted than surprised, and he steeled himself for the tasks ahead.

Nowadays he did what he could, helping those who asked but mostly keeping to himself. It was all one could do to survive.

Sometimes he thought back to the stories his mother had told him before bed, of the Jedi High Council and a mysterious Force that beat and pulsed through the heart of the galaxy, binding all life together. Gael had never seen a Jedi, but years on Rakata Prime had taught him to believe in the Force. He saw it in the Rakata’s eyes, saw how it compelled them and made them drunk, lustful, violent—even if he had no sense for its power himself. It was for this reason Gael felt foolish on nights spent awake, when small, childlike hopes that _a hero would come and topple the First Order, as Luke Skywalker had toppled the Empire_ would creep into his mind. He knew it was a pipe dream. For all he knew, Luke Skywalker had never existed at all; and if he had, who was to say whether or not a single man with such power could be trusted? Besides, if there was one thing that Gael could rely on, it was his grit and ability to stay alive. That in and of itself had more worth to Gael than his own identity. A hero such as Luke Skywalker was a foolish dream Gael had stopped trying to believe in, and he had no reason to ever start hoping in it again. He could only hope that a miracle would stop the First Order.

Unfortunately, he would never see that day if it ever came.

It was these memories that swirled in Gael’s mind as he rushed to meet his death. A string of TIE fighters was berthed in the sand towards the far end of the beach. He could follow the sea wall, staying hidden in the shadows for most of the way, and when he reached them he knew it would only take a minute or two to slice into one of their mainframes. He’d done it before. He just needed to get airborne and hope nobody took him out with a blaster before then. The girl was counting on him. If a girl could steal away with a _Knight of Ren_ ’s datapad with her life, claiming she was against the First Order, he had to take that chance. Gael didn’t know what the Force was, but his mother had believed in it, and she would believe in it even now with the girl.

So he had to do it. It was necessary. Critical, even.

Gael brushed a thumb over the Starbird tattoo on his arm, just as thunder rumbled in from out over the ocean. He didn’t have to see the Force to know it was with him, to know it would carry him peacefully into the ether.

 

She could _desperately_ use the Force right now—especially in times like this, tucked away in a shadowy corner and waiting on the unknown with nothing but her base instincts to guide her. Not that Rey’s instincts weren’t _good_ , but “Kaytoo” had given her very little to work with. _You’ll know it when you see it_ , he’d said, and now, not knowing what to look for, she was jumping at everything. Lightning flashed over the water and her heart skipped a beat. Every whisper, every thud of a footstep, every creak of cartwheels made her start.

What was the time frame supposed to be? She had no idea how long this was supposed to take. The access codes to his transport wouldn’t be much help if she never got to use them. Her mind shifted to the datapad in her satchel, the _hope_ Kaytoo had mentioned. It was tempting to look at it now while she waited, if only so she could discard it if she had to—but she couldn’t risk missing Kaytoo’s signal. Still, it was burning a hole in her clothes. She could only imagine the world of information she was about to have access to if Kaytoo was as good a slicer as he claimed to be.

There’d be no one left to share it with, though. No one to fight with. _I’m all alone._

The desolation hung in her throat until she swallowed hard and the feeling all but disappeared. Rey’s hand moved to her helmet; she wondered how much time she had left before Kaytoo’s makeshift transmission blocker gave out. If he wasn’t with her, she’d either have to ditch the thing before takeoff or take it… and risk being tracked.

The thunder overhead rumbled each beat, as if clocking down to an inevitable moment. Rey’s stomach lurched. She shifted her weight, wishing she had a chrono. It felt like she’d been waiting too long.

A bit later the whine of a TIE fighter stung her ears, and she looked up to see it whirring towards her from somewhere down the beach. _Odd_. She didn’t think she’d ever seen one flying without wing guards. They usually came in strings. But…

Needles prickled the back of her neck. Kaytoo had gone that way. She hadn’t heard artillery fire, though, and it was flying much faster than he could run… so it didn’t seem likely to be chasing him. A coincidence, then.

She ducked as it passed overhead, too low in altitude for comfort. A second later it was gone though, having disappeared somewhere beyond the port. Other than that, some First Order freighters lingered in the sky—which grew dark with the gloom of cumulonimbus clouds—and she knew Star Destroyers waited just beyond the planet’s atmosphere, but things had mostly calmed down. The air smelled of rain. Something lingered in the air, palpable, heavy. Her thoughts trailed back to Kylo, wondering if they’d discovered Sobu Ren’s body yet.

That was a foolish thought. Surely they had. She had to leave. _Come_ on, _Kaytoo_ , she thought, skin crawling.

Even if Rey had seen the cannon fire coming, she wouldn’t have had time to react.

For a split second, everything lit up green. Then her ears rang a thousand times through her head as Rey was knocked off her feet, catching herself hard on open palms—cannon fire rocked the ground under her skin. Dirt plumed around her, threatening to sting her eyes if she removed the helmet. It took a second longer for the sound of the TIE fighter’s engine to catch up, but she recognized it immediately for what it was. Scrambling to her feet, Rey whirled around, eyes tearing upward into the sky.

The TIE fighter from earlier. It rocketed past overhead, splitting the sky with bright green lights. Its shots landed hard, sand and fire exploding all around—but never the market itself, Rey realized as she watched it bank back around to continue its path of destruction. The makeshift Officers’ tent was burning. Some First Order transports along the docks lit up in green, then in orange and red. And the squadron that’d previously guarded the Officers’ tent at the far end of the market looked only half-intact. Rakata darted out from their booths, despite the market being totally intact.

Yelling. The place erupted into chaos.

 _Wait for my signal_.

“Oh, oh, oh oh _oh_ ,” Rey gasped to herself, her feet immediately moving before the thought had even finished. The pilot was _Kaytoo_ —Rey didn’t know how he’d managed to commandeer a TIE fighter, but she knew it was him. _Had_ to be him. Even without the Force, she felt it in her bones.

Now was her chance. While they were chasing _him_.

Rey slipped out from behind the retaining wall and made a break for the beach, running as fast as she could. Her blood rushed, adrenaline pouring into her veins. It was just her and the transport. Everything else faded away, aside from the sound of blaster bolts and more engines screaming overhead.

They’d caught on. She didn’t dare look to see if they’d hit him. She had to get offworld— _NOW_ —and the transport was _right there_ —

Rey punched in the access codes he’d given her, unable to contain a relieved _“Yes!_ ” when the INT-66’s loading door opened on the first try. Kaytoo was right; the transport was big. She hadn’t noted till now that it boasted four cannons. She started to hoist herself inside, hesitating for a moment when she thought of her helmet. _Oh, no,_ she noted in dismay. The tracker. Rey ripped it from her head, eyeing it. She probably had a little bit longer with the transmission scrambler. It was still humming; less time had passed than she’d thought.

She would take it with her. She was no slicer, but she knew a thing or two about wires and she knew the helmet could prove useful. It would be awhile before word got out about a dead Knight of Ren, and she didn’t know what waited for her on Lothal. Better to take it. If she could jump to hyperspace before the transmitter reverted back, she’d be fine. The trip to Lothal would take a while and she was sure she could dismantle the tracker by then. If not, she’d space it before she arrived. And really, how likely was it that they’d miss that Sobu anyway? No matter how awful Rey felt for his death. Wincing, she apologized to him inwardly as her feet kicked her back into gear.

Rey climbed the rest of the way into the transport and closed the door with haste. She found the cockpit in seconds, leaping into the captain’s seat and relishing the way the yoke felt in her hands. For the first time in months, she felt marginally in control. Getting offworld would be tough, but she’d handled worse, and she knew the time Kaytoo had bought her would cost him his life. She had to use it for all it was worth.

She booted up the engines and they roared to life. Whatever ache and itch had been there in the silence of her mind had vanished in the brief chaos that had erupted with Kaytoo’s signal, and as the INT-66 rumbled under her hands, she felt the first signs of a grin creep onto her lips. There was no time for a pre-flight check; she just made sure she knew where the guns and cloaking device were located on the controls, and that was that, but that was all she needed to know in order to escape.

Rey tilted the nose skyward and floored it.

 

Something was off.

Kylo sensed it several moments before the port came into view. For better or worse, the feeling tore him from his nightmarish reverie and he shot up from his seat to lean over Lieutenant Tavson’s shoulder. He knew—he just _knew_ —it had something to do with _her_. His fingers dug into the back of his pilot’s seat, threatening to pierce into the thick black cushion.

The treeline broke under a canopy of heavy clouds, the port city appeared on the horizon, and Kylo’s heart plummeted. Raindrops spattered the viewport, and beyond it was TIE fire and explosions.

“You’re wasting time!” he snapped at Tavson, reaching over the man’s shoulder and shoving the thrusters forward—the engines raced to top speed.

“Sir—” Tavson started, turning back around, but Kylo shoved him out of the way, hijacking the man’s seat.

Heartbeat erratic, he reached for his comlink with his free hand—

—oh, right, he’d thrown it in the _fucking ocean_ —

—“Somebody com _General Hux!_ ” he bellowed, rage blooming in his chest. He slammed his fist down on the control panel. “Verify that all departures from the planet have been halted. I want every ship that tries to leave boarded and everyone on board detained!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lieutenant Tavson scramble backwards and to his feet.

“Yes, Master.” Yuzha’s voice was even as she did as instructed.

The engines were _so_ loud. Kylo had Hux’s shuttle over the port in seconds and out of pure instinct, he grappled for the bond in his head, only to come up empty once again. How was he supposed to find her?! His eyes darted frantically over the scene below, searching for her as he swung a hard bank out over the ocean and back around towards the market. The sun had fallen below the horizon.

 _Fuck!_ He didn’t even know what to look for. There was nothing to reach out to.

His head was excruciatingly silent.

“Departures—transports boarded—ensure there are no escapes,” he heard Yuzha in and out from somewhere over his shoulder amidst the roar of shuttle engines and rattle of the cabin. He was only half-listening. Artillery fire was everywhere; it took his eyes a second to find its source. Even then, it’d grown very dark with the impending storm, and the rogue TIE firing shots was little more than a shadow outlined in the dimness. His eyes were on it one second, and then the next it was gone. It had to be her. She’d stolen it to escape.

Lightning flashed and he caught the glimpse of a hull again. He banked the shuttle after it, heart leaping into his throat and warranting a disgruntled sound from Mahad. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Shoot her down?! A low, angry sound escaped from between his clenched teeth. Behind him, his Knights held tight to their seats.

Other TIEs swarmed in the air around them, but they were all branded First Order on radar and his eyes were the only reliable way to discern the one that’d gone rogue. It was getting increasingly hard to see as the sky grew darker with the oncoming night." _Agh_ ," he bit out, almost hysteric.

Despite his rage, the thought of losing her offworld chilled him to the bone.

Just then a TIE screamed past his viewport, almost mocking in its proximity, beckoning him to follow. Just like she’d taunted him with the Falcon on Crait. His cheeks burned as the whine of its engines reverberated through his chest. So that was how it was going to be.

Kylo jerked the yoke, banking hard left after the TIE. His eyes were on it again; he could see the shimmer of its hull in the rain, reflecting the glow of his shuttle’s searchlights. Six TIEs fell into formation beside him, three on either wing. They had her cornered.

His heart was a block of ice as he grabbed the shuttle com in his hand—the one wrapped in a bacta patch. Part of him didn’t think he could do it, just like he hadn’t been able to fire on General Organa when needed, and it’d come back to bite him. A greater part of him was terrified that he _could_ ; just like he’d killed Han Solo, a memory that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse as he said, “Rogue leader, identify yourself.”

Silence.

Of _course_ it was fucking silence.

“Rogue leader, you have ten seconds to identify yourself. Otherwise, my fleet will open fire.” Sounding imperative was a struggle when his mind was poisoned with thoughts of how close she’d been at the Black Rakata Settlement, of that moment between them on the _Supremacy_ ’s lift, of how she’d cried tears for him on the bridge and instead of taking her in his arms he’d just stood there like a fool. _Foolish boy. Foolish boy._

His last actions towards her had been despicable. _Please don’t let this end here_ , he begged to no one, knowing the bond was dead and she couldn’t hear him. His fingers had a death grip on the control sticks.

Ten seconds were almost up. Kylo’s vision started to tunnel. He forgot to breathe.

Then, static on the com.

“Hello there.” The voice that spoke over the com did not belong to a woman. Kylo had never heard the man’s voice before in his life. His mouth popped open, his mind taking a second to catch up to all it implied, that Rey was gone, that he had no idea where she was, and in that moment the TIE barrel-rolled to the right in a quick bank, a suicide move as it turned to face Kylo’s shuttle and accompanying TIEs head-on. Its cannons locked into place as it sped towards them. Kylo sat, frozen, like he was watching in slow motion.

“ _Master_!” Mahad jumped to the front of the cockpit, throwing as much of himself between Kylo and the viewport as he could.

Something crackled over the com, then that same voice—the _man_ —rang loudly in the cockpit. “Rogue Leader out.” The tone was deadly calm. In the moment after it, Tavson managed to catch a written transmission from the same man in the rogue fighter, and Kylo saw it the second before everything kicked into gear: _G’nite, fuck-o’s._

His instincts screamed into action and he plunged the shuttle’s nose forward into a dive as cannonfire erupted overhead. No matter how loud the air around him grew, the silence in Kylo’s head was deafening, blocking everything else out. Seconds later the darkness beyond the viewport came alive with a shower of ember and glowing debris; remnants of the rogue pilot’s TIE. Whoever he’d been, he was gone now.

And so was Rey.

The Supreme Leader flipped the shuttle to autopilot and slumped back in his chair, his mind numbing over. Lieutenant Tavson was panting in the corner. Mahad cleared his throat, leaning forward on the dashboard and exhaling hard. Yuzha and Lokka were quiet in the back of the cabin.

Then a beeping noise chirped through the quiet. Kylo heard the rustle of fabric and the _clink_ of armor; the clip of Lokka unlatching her com.

“No,” she whispered.

Mahad turned around. “What is it?”

Lokka didn’t answer.

In the half-silence and distant wails of alarms, Kylo felt himself frown and twist around in his seat. Lokka’s face was as pale as the moon.

“Sobu’s tracker,” she said, eyes wide. “It just registered on my feed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the word 'kriff' doesn't roll off kylo's tongue as well as 'fuck' does, at least in our minds. but you've probably already figured that out based on previous chapters.
> 
> as always, let us know what you think and thank you all so much for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!
> 
> It's been a long time. We recommend reading the last chapter if you've forgotten what's happened, or just to reacquaint yourselves with the OCs. after a series of moves, projects, other fandoms, and overall lots of settling and/or looking for new life things, the inspo's hit us again. Those of you still around, thanks for all your patience. We read all your comments and always talk to each other about them and they're always helpful.
> 
> thanks for reading as always!

__

_"_ Argh!” Rey spat. Sobu’s helmet cracked against the transport floor, bouncing once before rolling out of eyesight to settle somewhere behind the captain’s chair. She slumped back in the well-worn seat, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing out another indeterminable noise before straightening and wrapping one trembling hand around the yoke. She programmed her course into autopilot with the other, letting loose a tense breath when it was set. Dragging an arm across her forehead to wipe away the sweat that’d beaded there, she caught a whiff of herself and scowled. She reeked, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. Not until she was relatively safe.

She was in hyperspace now though, racking up light years between herself and the Rakata System with each second that passed, and Rey doubted she’d ever return to that place. Her eyes flickered briefly to the flashing blue light beyond the viewport, then down to her boots. _Don’t look at that, unless you wanna spend the rest of the flight hugging the can._ That was what Han had told her during their fleeting time together, on the way to Takodana. He’d been all crass and grumpy about it, and she hadn’t realized until later that he didn’t know how else to show that he cared. So instead she leaned forward and managed to pull herself off of the seat, wincing as she did so. Han’s dice clinked above the control panel.

Sobu’s helmet was lying by her boot. Rey didn’t even want to look at it.

She took a few moments to rub at her eyes and hold her palms against her head for a second, thinking. It wouldn’t be long before the tracker started working again, if it hadn’t already. She needed _time_ ; time to find out what resources the transport had, and time to come up with a course of action for when she reached Lothal, but she couldn’t address either of those problems until this tracker mishap was solved.

With the transport safely on autopilot, she could let herself breathe for a minute. She _had_ to, or she wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. Slowly Rey sank to the floor, crossing her legs beneath her and drawing Sobu’s helmet into her lap. Holding it, she could almost, just _almost_ feel his energy—a thought that both excited and terrified her. It’d been so _long_ since she’d used the Force but she knew it lingered all over the fallen Knight’s helmet like a bloodstain waiting to be discovered. She could almost _hear_ it.

Rey sucked in a deep breath through her nostrils, gritting her teeth. It’d been four years. She didn’t need it. She’d proved that to herself already, hadn’t she? She’d survived Jakku without it and she didn’t need it now. Especially not now, when the Supreme Leader would be doing everything he could to find her.

Despite what she told herself, she couldn’t ignore how her fingertips dug into the sheen sides of the helmet as though her life depended on it.

“Get a handle on yourself,” she murmured, wishing for the first time in years that she at least had a droid for company.

 _No_. She couldn’t afford loneliness. Not these days.

Rey went straight for the voice module. She knew from experience that it would be the easiest access point, having scrapped a few for parts on Jakku herself. It was only a matter of seconds before the modulator sat next to her on the floor, exposing a tangle of wires and sensors where it’d been. Her fingers were like forceps, navigating the mess with needle-like precision. She knew this work.

_Aha!_

The tracker was a rudimentary thing, but it stood out like a sore thumb nonetheless, taking only a moment to find. It was tiny, not much bigger than a fingernail but the vibrant sophistication of its power cells gave it away. Sobu’s helmet was old. _Very_ old. So old she wondered how long he’d been wearing it, if he’d always had it, and just like that a shadow crept into her heart.

Force, he’d been such a pitiful thing.

She hoped Kylo had been kind to him.

_Fuck!_

She cursed herself. Once, _Kylo_ had been too cold, too hard, too impersonal a name. Now the moniker wasn’t cold or hard enough. She’d resigned to call him “the Supreme Leader”, knowing anything more than that was dangerous. _Supreme Leader_ was foreign and unfamiliar; a figurehead and nothing else. Supreme Leader was a title, not a person.

Rey ripped the tracking device from its recess and crushed it in her palm until synthetic dust drifted down from between her fingertips. Sobu was no more.

There wasn’t much in the transport at all except for a few standard rations, enough for her to not worry for several days if something happened. The navigators were all functional, though for some reason she still had a mild sense of tinkering unease. Her fingers ached to busy herself with something comfortable, but everything was in working order. Fuel wasn’t an issue since the transport had been sitting on the dock for what seemed like a while. It became clear almost instantly that she _had_ everything she’d need to get away from it all.

Blast. She really didn't have a choice either way.

 _I trust it’ll get you to Lothal_ , Kaytoo had told her. Rey squeezed her eyes shut, remembering those last precious minutes. Already she knew she couldn’t abandon someone’s sacrifice like that, not when it had touched her so profoundly. Not when he’d given so much. He’d willingly fallen to allow her escape, and she had to follow through on their plan. She was older now; she knew devotion when she saw it, and Kaytoo had believed in her. He’d thought she was the _last_ hope for whatever underground resistance still existed in the galaxy, and she hadn’t seen hope like that in a long, long, _long_ time. She refused to let it die. Not while she still lived.

She opened her eyes again, took a rations bar from storage (and refrained from taking the rest—stars, she was _hungry_ ) and padded over to the console, double checking the coordinates. She’d arrive on Lothal before long—it wasn’t too far from Rakata Prime, relatively speaking. She’d never _been_ to Lothal, but she’d heard it was a calm, farm planet for the most part. There’d been a temple there, an ancient one Master Luke had spoken of, one she’d wanted to visit… before she’d heard the news that it had been razed to the ground.

She’d never heard for certain whether it’d been Kylo or not, but...

Rey spit out a mouthful of rations bar, wet goo splattering across the viewport. The _Supreme Leader_! Not Kylo. _Not Kylo!_

For a long moment she stood there in the cockpit in silence, desperate to push him from her head. Only… she didn’t have to push as hard. The ache in her mind was weaker, like maybe it had started to wane. She felt no itch, no urge to seek the other end of the bond, no overwhelming sense of pressure or demand. It was just exhaustion, the type of fatigue that would hopefully dissipate within the next few hours as she approached Lothal. In a way, it was even more frustrating.

Rey glanced down at what remained of her rations bar, no longer feeling so hungry, growing more and more tired. What was she supposed to do now?

Sighing, she pulled Sobu’s datapad from her satchel. It would be good to go through it while she had time. Lazily, she sunk into the captain’s chair, kicked her feet up on the transport’s dash and activated the device. If nothing else, combing Sobu’s data would take her mind off of everything, if only for a while.

 

“Supreme Leader.” With tight lips, Colonel Datoo greeted Kylo’s shuttle in the _Judicator_ ’s loading bay, but the Supreme Leader was only half-aware of the Stormtrooper squadrons jogging past, blasters in hand, presumably to debark for the planet. Yuzha, interestingly against Kylo’s orders, had protested leaving Rakata Prime at first, what with the fucking port going up in flames—but Kylo was _not_ going to stay on that miserable planet when whatever the fuck just happened had _happened._ He’d quickly made it clear that yes, they were _leaving._ His right hand had settled for calling in backup, adjusting rapidly to his decline in mood.

Rey had escaped. For a second he thought the blood vessels in his eyes would burst from the aching pressure behind them.

“Set course for the Outer Rim,” Kylo ordered through clenched teeth, ignoring Datoo’s level stare. It took great effort to keep himself contained, through the incredible self-restraint of not turning the entire place over. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to raze all of his men, his entire fleet, the whole fucking galaxy to the ground. It was almost funny, except that it wasn’t. What the fuck was the point of any of it? Everything was wrong. Throat tight, his attention floated over the loading bay, calculating how many troops he would be withholding from General Hux if they jumped to light speed now. His temples ached from clenching his jaw. Icy fury crept outward from his core to his limbs.

It didn’t matter what happened to Hux or that awful Rakata Prime. _She_ was more important, and much more of a threat to galactic stability than some inconsequential Rakatan uprising. It was _critical_ that she didn’t get far. If she survived (and withheld herself _from him through the Force_ , however in the whole galaxy she was doing it), then she had to be taken down at once.

She was too dangerous, too unpredictable. He was only doing it to safeguard the galaxy he’d built.

There was _no other reason._

“Supreme Leader?” Confusion laced Datoo’s tone, much like everyone’s lately.

No—there _was_ one other reason. Maybe to get his mind back on track and to stop having everyone doubt his decisions. When would everyone start acting as though _yes, he knew what he was doing_? Kylo’s eyes snapped back to the colonel, hot as coal. “You heard me.” His breath shook when he spoke.

Datoo blinked, his lips downturning. “But the Outer Rim has been for the most part secured,” the colonel answered, brows knit together.

White-hot heat surged through Kylo, shooting down his arm and into his palm. His grip—the Force crackled its way into his lethal, intangible grip—lurched around the colonel’s throat within a split-second, dragging the man so close that their noses nearly touched.

“A- _agh,_ ” the colonel gasped, clawing at his throat for air, the invisible hold crushing his airways. “S-s-sir—?” Those eyes, once doubting him, turned glassy. Was that the only way to change their minds?

Kylo couldn’t see straight. He was crumbling from the inside out, like he’d been hit with an antimatter blast that was tearing him apart atom by atom. He had no time to spare. This man was _wasting his fucking time_. As if desperate for something to hold onto, Kylo tightened his grip around the Colonel’s throat—and the Colonel’s eyes bulged blood-red in response. He couldn’t breathe.

“ _You_ — _heard_ — _me_ ,” breathed Kylo, deadly quiet and hoarse, even as the colonel’s skin went purple, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The man was no longer breathing.

Datoo’s head lolled to the side, but Kylo held him firmly as he said, “That was the trajectory. The Outer Rim. Now,” he added, turning to the congregation of officers and Knights that surrounded him, “whoever is best fit to replace this useless fucking rotworm better see to it that we set course for the Outer Rim.”

None of them replied. The galaxy seemed to thump for a moment, beating uselessly against the force that still surrounded Datoo’s limp body. What were they _waiting_ for? “IMMEDIATELY!” he bellowed, and they scattered, off to fulfill his order. Fucking finally.

Kylo turned on Yuzha and Mahad. “Both of you,” he started, his gloved, shaking finger pointing between the two of them. He knew what he looked like. He knew his limp hair hung in his eyes, his teeth bared and gritted. He still held Colonel Datoo’s limp body suspended with the other hand, fingers cramping and going numb with the effort of it. “I want a full statistical analysis run on her possible coordinates, and I want this ship in full pursuit the moment you find it. Do you _understand_?”

If Mahad made a face under his mask as he was prone to doing, he wisely made no comment. The two of them straightened and Yuzha nodded. “Right away, Supreme Leader.”

“We’ll see to it,” added Mahad, who knew when to act like a damn Knight when he needed to.

“Of course you will,” Kylo snapped. _Something_ had to go right around here for once. With that, he forcefully tossed Colonel Datoo’s body aside, ignoring how it hit the ground with a thud and a snap. He spun around, the officers around him following through on his orders, acting like they worked for him for once.

He exited the loading bay, making straight for his training quarters. As he did his thoughts spun back to the Rakata corpses that’d littered the beach; to his fallen Knight, Sobu, and his pathetic, honorless death.

Everything was her fault.

It was _her_ self-righteousness that’d thrown the galaxy into disarray. Before _her_ , the First Order had been well on its way to establishing much-desired order; order which hadn’t been seen since the days of his grandfather. She’d brought chaos to their doorstep. Now the sanctimonious New Republic Leia Organa had fought so hard to establish was dead at least, and he was glad for it. He was almost there. He just needed to bury it all.

 

The desert air was warm inside Rey’s AT-AT, filling her lungs and pressing down like a weight on her chest. Sweat dripped from her temple, staining her lips with salt. Her eyes flickered, hazy glimpses of her dwelling marred by her long lashes: there was her old rebel helmet in the corner, next to a wilted sandrake in its ramshackle pot and a stack of salvaged holodiscs she’d never found a use for, since she had no means of viewing them. Outside, she could hear the whistle of wind over the dunes.

“There you are,” whispered a low voice, so familiar and soft that it trembled through her fingers.

Rey turned over on her cot—to see what she already knew: that she wasn’t alone. All at once she felt the weight of him, of how his body pressed into the makeshift mattress next to her and his brown eyes bore into hers. His hand drifted up to her jaw, dragging along the line of it before he lifted two fingers to her cracked, dry lips, listlessly tracing their contours for what felt like forever. Rey’s fingers tickled along the fabric beneath them.

“How did you find me?” The words tumbled out hoarse and dry, breathy from exertion.

“How could I not?” he told her, pausing to trace a finger along the contour of her cheek. His eyes, the color of rich Ruan soil, lingered where his fingers met her skin and the contact thrummed through Rey’s bones. He shifted closer; his breath fell onto her lips and he pressed his forehead to hers, dark, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his temples.

Rey brought one hand up to trail over his mouth, lifting a finger to the curve of his lower lip, marveling at it. He exhaled a low hum as his hand drifted lower from her cheek and over the curve of her neck, thumbing the dip just beyond her collarbone. Time evaporated in the desert heat, the moment unmarred by whatever world lay beyond the cot. He dipped his lips to her skin, just beneath her jaw, and kissed her beating pulse. Heat shot through Rey once again, lighting the tips of her fingers on fire. She curled them inwards to her palms.

Her heart thumped, inseparable from the movement of his lips. Louder, louder—thump, thump, _thump_ —until her ears were ringing and her gasps left her seeing white. _Thump, thump_. He must have noticed because he pulled away, while hints of a roguish grin—not quite a real smile—tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His hand drifted down to stroke the nape of her neck, his long fingers slipping into her hair and drawing her closer. He let his eyes linger on hers for a second too long before he dragged her to him and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the outskirts of her jaw. Rey gasped, despite herself, but he answered, nipping at her gently with his teeth. Her hand fisted in the sheet between them.

He stopped and sighed into her collar, pressing his forehead to her dewy skin. His hair tickled her collarbone, matted with sweat though the light streaming into the AT-AT that had faded to pink, indicating that the sun would set soon.

“Rey,” he breathed into her skin, just louder than a whisper, eyes flickering up to meet hers.

“What is it?”

He paused, silent, the moment between them growing long. Rey counted the breaths she took as she waited.

She didn’t expect it when he bit her suddenly, sinking his teeth deep into her neck. She gasped and her head fell back, her hands finding purchase on his arms and clutching at the dark fabric of his tunic. His mouth dragged up the column of her throat cruelly, overwhelming her, as she blinked heavily and fumbled through the sensation of the sharper nips at her skin. Her pulse fluttered through her fingers, shaking. His free hand landed on her mouth, fingers curling tenderly yet firmly around her jaw as he tilted his head back, forcing her to look him in the eye.

Rey stilled, heart hammering against her ribcage.

At once he shifted and rolled himself on top of her, kicking her legs apart with one knee in a swift motion and settling between them, his hips pinning hers. While still cupping her mouth with one hand, he tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. His gaze flickered from where the hem of her tunic collar exposed more of her shoulder, to drift over her face, then flickered back again before his teeth returned to nip at her throat. Rey inhaled a sharp breath against his palm, goosebumps bristling the hair at the base of her neck. Her fingernails dug into his biceps in response to the increasing force of his bites. She couldn’t help how her legs curled around the outside of his calves, drawing him closer, so little fabric between them.

Despite the whistle of wind outside, the scrape of sand against her AT-AT’s walls and the beating of her pulse against her eardrums, everything suddenly seemed very, _very_ quiet. She became self-conscious of her breathing, because _why was it so ragged_? Rey briefly closed her eyes, drawing a slow-breath through her nostrils.

Maybe he’d found a way to read her mind, because right then he stopped and gave her a look, one she’d never seen before. It was a taunt, daring her to let him to continue, and _Force_ she wanted nothing else. Without thinking, she opened her mouth and bit one of those long, pale fingers strewn across her lips. Her stomach clenched when his eyes darkened—it was almost unsettling, but she was drowning in whatever intimacy she could get, and the smug satisfaction in his face pushed her nerves away. The finger she bit slid between her lips and down over the wetness of her tongue. All the while he watched, something hungry in his eyes.

His look was almost too much, but Rey held his gaze as steady as she could, licking along the underside of his finger, sucking at the tip of it before letting go with a soft _pop_. The resultant smolder in his eyes warmed her, all the way down the pit of her stomach which twisted and writhed with some terrible concoction of nervousness, desire and need. She watched as he pulled away from her, rolling back onto his calves—her legs still draped around him—and drew that same finger into his own mouth, accompanied by another. Then his hand was falling slowly, lower and lower until it reached the waistband of her trousers.

Outside, night had fallen, pitching her AT-AT home into shadow. The moment between them grew long, both of them unmoving. As the moment clocked by, the uneasy feeling returned, growing by the second. Somewhere in the desert beyond, a ripper-raptor keened.

In a split second red, serrated light tore through the darkness, accompanied by the ear-splitting crackle of his lightsaber surging to life. Rey never had time to think. Out of instinct she reached for her own weapon with an outstretched hand and the Force.

It never came.

She rolled out of the cot, crashing hard on the floor as his blade came crashing down.

Rey jolted awake when she hit the floor of the transport, Sobu’s datapad clattering down next to her, dropped from her trembling hand. _Wh_ — _what_ —? She gasped for air, inhaling a mouthful of her own saliva and choking on it. Spluttering, her vision blurred at the corners of her eyes. The blue of hyperspace flashed beyond the viewport, amplifying the nausea that’d overtaken her gut.

 _H-how?_ It was a dream. It was only a dream, and yet—

In that moment she gave up trying to hold everything in.

She broke, sobbing into the cold steel of the transport floor for what felt like hours, gasping, shoulders shaking, chills racing up her arms and then shooting down her spine. Maybe it _was_ hours. Maybe it was days.

It didn’t really matter. Out here in the dead and loneliness of space, all she had was time.

 

 

Sometime later, when the autopilot signaled that she was nearing her destination and it was time to exit hyperspace, Rey pulled herself together. She helped herself to another rations bar, and then a second one, because eating made her feel less empty, before she reclaimed her seat in the captain’s chair and resumed control of the transport. As bright blue faded to black around her, stars blinking into existence, she exhaled a slow breath. If there was one thing that made her feel like things were normal again, that she had nothing to worry about aside from her gauges and nav panel, it was flying. Distance and flying would solve the issue. That was all.

And she’d made it. She was here in the Lothal sector without being shot down or captured. She’d escaped.

 

Kylo’s back was stiff against his throne. His legs sprawled out in front of him, too long as always, and his hands rested motionless on the bulky armrests. The room was entirely silent save for the low drone of the Star Destroyer’s engines. Kylo hadn’t spoken to anyone since his arrival on the _Judicator_ nearly a day ago. His crown sat heavy on his head, its steel edges bringing him some small, cold comfort, a weight that he desperately needed to ground himself.

He stared dead-eyed through the massive floor-to-ceiling viewports, surrounded on all sides by darkness. They’d just dropped from hyperspace and were somewhere in the Outer Rim now. If he’d bothered to take note of the surrounding stars he would have been able to determine where exactly this pursuit had taken them, but in that moment… he really didn’t give a shit.

Though his posture didn’t show it, he was exhausted, and it had nothing to do with how he’d spent the greater part of a basic day training. The exhaustion was deeper than that: a bone-deep fatigue, brought on by the ever-growing burden of his own inescapable failures. His military would lose faith in him soon if they hadn’t already. Word of his latest blunder had probably already spread through the ranks. Maybe they’d even started plotting to dispose of him. Hux would jump at the chance no doubt, and Hux was no fool. If the General wasn’t directly informed of what had gone wrong on Rakata Prime, Kylo was sure the weasel would be able to piece it together himself.

Kylo’s fingers curled into fists, so hard his nails would have drawn blood had he not been wearing gloves.

With his mind, he beckoned Yuzha, the only one on this whole fucking Star Destroyer he knew he could trust. When his mind touched hers, he sensed that she’d been waiting for his summons; giving him space, which he appreciated more than he would acknowledge.

Several minutes later, the blast doors of the chamber opened to reveal his Knight.

“Report,” he stated, monotone, while forcing himself to uncurl his fingers.

“After extensive statistical analysis, we have narrowed the fugitive’s trajectory down to one of three settled planets and their surrounding moons: Atollon, Garel, and Lothal. There is also a marginal chance that the fugitive has chosen to hide in the Archeon pass due to its notoriety among smugglers such as Han Solo,” Yuzha said. If she had any fears of mentioning Solo near Kylo, she managed not to show it.

Even now, the name left an ugly taste in his mouth. He shoved it away, turning thoughtful instead. “There was a rebel base located on Atollon, purportedly destroyed by Grand Admiral Thrawn many years ago. See to it the planet is thoroughly searched and all remaining artifacts destroyed. You know what happened on Crait. As for Garel and Lothal, I want them thoroughly searched with permanent military presences established. You will set up trade route checkpoints, where every transport leaving or entering the planets’ orbits will be searched. Do you understand?”

Yuzha nodded. “Of course, sir. I will see to it immediately.”

“One more thing,” added Kylo, tone deliberate.

She tilted her helmeted head to the side.

“I want preemptive trade embargoes placed on each planet, only to be lifted when the fugitive has been brought forth, either voluntarily or by force. The First Order will not tolerate those who conspire with our enemies.” The last word slipped through gritted teeth, Rey’s face clear in his mind.

Yuzha nodded again. “Understood. I will see to it that the proper proceedings are undertaken, effective immediately.”

She lingered there at the base of the dais for a moment longer, and Kylo got the sense that she wanted him to say something more, but he had nothing left to say. He merely gestured with his chin that she should go, and she did, slowly turning on her heel to leave him be. Some tension left his taut muscles when the blast doors closed behind her. Right then, even Yuzha’s presence was hard for him to stomach.

 

“Where is it?” snapped Hux at the litter of subordinates packed into his expedition shuttle. He stood tersely behind the pilots’ seats on the flight deck, eyes plastered to the viewport. Rakata Prime was within reasonable distance of its star and consequently Hux’s excursion hadn’t taken him very far. Still, he was eager to be on with things—especially what with Ren running amok and leading his gaggle of _children_ around behind him, making a whole mess of things. As Hux always mentioned with a sniff to whomever asked (or didn’t ask), the First Order was _above_ disorder. The excursion, he hoped, would get them back on the right path.

“I... I’m not sure it’s here, sir. Your map could be very old,” Lieutenant Dormitz, his Chief Navigation Officer, replied. Despite the fact that all of them wore protective eyewear, Hux got the impression that Dormitz didn’t so much as glance his way. Like all of them, his attention was on the viewport and the Rakatan star ahead.

“Oh _blast_. That’s not an answer, Lieutenant, and you know it.” The quip sounded a lot more sure leaving Hux’s mouth than he himself felt in that moment. If Dormitz had the nerve to ask what sort of answer Hux was looking for, he very well wouldn’t be able to do anything other than tell Dormitz to just keep looking.

Either way, the reality was he had no idea _what_ they were looking for. Just that whatever it was, it was supposed to be _here_. In orbit. Around this star. At least, that’s what the bloody rotting map purported, which _he’d_ found thanks to his own hard work and genius. He, General Hux, Armitage Hux had found it. _Not Ren._

It had to show him _something._

“Forgive me, sir,” Dormitz mumbled. “Our sensors aren’t detecting anything of notable mass or importance.”

He was about to tell Dormitz to shut up and look harder, but as Hux squinted and leaned forward towards the viewport, he could only agree. There was nothing of importance in orbit around the Rakata System’s star. He felt, to his dismay, his pilots begin to shift with impatience, and his nose wrinkled in return. It was quite pertinent that he not make a fool of himself; not while Ren was presently behaving so irrationally. In other words, like a child fucking around as a child did. When the time for succession came, Hux had to ensure that he was up to the task; that his _troops_ saw him fit for it. Now was not the time for mistakes. That was Ren’s job.

“Have you lot considered a cloaking device?” the general demanded, quietly wondering whether the lowness of his tone masked the nerves he felt jittering all the way to his fingertips.

“Of course, sir. Our scans have detected zero traces of hibridium or stygium crystals in the relevant vicinity. Unless something else is powering a cloaking device, there aren’t any around here at all.” Dormitz seemed to gather some semblance of nerve, his reply matter-of-fact.

And it was overall a dumb fucking thing to say. Hux smacked him across the back of his head; Dormitz lurched forward, his protective visor clattering onto the panels in front of him before tumbling to the floor. “I know that, you kriffing idiot,” spat Hux. “If the hibridium or stygium crystals are cloaked, they won’t be detectable. It’s _incredible_ how I have to explain everything.” He heaved a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Now—and listen _carefully_ —I want an interdiction field launched. Immediately. I assume this transport is equipped with gravity well projectors.”

“Of course, sir. Industry standard for all medium-to-large sized vessels produced within the last three years,” Dormitz told him, delicately picking his eyewear off the floor.

Why did they have to always be told twice? “Then let’s see it,” Hux snapped.

“Yes sir.”

The lieutenant entered a code on the vessel’s interface... and a deep thrumming sound resounded through the transport. Seconds later, Hux’s stomach flipping somersaults in his body, a vibrant green ray of light shot outward from the transport towards the star.

“Hold constant,” he commanded, jaw clenching tight. Dormitz followed through, one hand steadying his visor over his eyes, and the rest of Hux’s subordinates followed suit.

Long moments passed in silence. The general folded his hands neatly behind his back, ignoring the itch of sweat trickling down his temples. It was hot and stuffy in the shuttle, the air thick with bated breath and nerves. All eyes were aimed beyond the viewport.

Finally, a meek voice broke the air. “What was that?” the lieutenant’s peon said, lifting a hand and pointing somewhere indiscriminate in the distance. _Helpful._

“What was _what_?” came the simultaneous reply of both Dormitz and General Hux.

“I just—I thought I saw a… I’m not sure. A disturbance in the light,” the underling answered, voice growing even meeker. But then the timbre shifted—"Yes. A disturbance! I saw it again—”

“I don’t see anything,” said Dormitz, unhelpfully.

Just as he spoke, Hux saw it: the uncloaking of what he could only think to describe as a fin, sleek and black and glittering in the light of the Rakatan star. His eyes widened. Whatever it was, he hadn’t expected it to be nearly so large. Two more fins followed, their guise unraveled by the interdiction field.

Hux’s mouth popped open. His brain, for one of the few moments in his life, couldn’t think of anything to say.

The transport went silent, all eyes watching as the massive structure drifted slow and steady past the viewport on its orbit. “What _is_ that?” came Dormitz’s voice, as though afraid to breathe.

Hux didn’t warrant him an answer, unable to look away from it. A chill of excitement crept into his bones.

“Sir?” said Dormitz.

“Whatever it is, it didn’t want to be found,” Hux murmured. _And I’ve found it._ Because whatever it was, he was going to use it.

 

Lothal was nothing like Rey expected it to be. She’d heard the planet was a lively place, with mountains covered in evergreen forests (albeit once razed by the Empire) and vast, roaming prairies where livestock grazed. Instead her approach made the planet look dead, green prairies now withered and brown, the forests sparse and leafless. A thick haze of smoke blanketed the western hemisphere, and from her aerial vantage point she saw the bright glow and resultant smog of wildfires burning somewhere along the horizon.

Her flight path took her to Capital City, Lothal’s largest settlement, and though Rey was wary of being noticed or deemed suspicious, she was able to dock at the port with relative ease. Perhaps it was the antiquation of her transport, or just the way of things in the Outer Rim… but nobody questioned her arrival or tried to stop her, which was enough to keep her nerves on edge. Still, she knew how relentless that arrogant, single-minded Supreme Leader could be and she swiftly abandoned the transport at the docks, determined to find some other way off world when the time came. She didn’t plan to stay long if she could help it. With years of practice, she stowed away the jitter in her fingers and made her way off her transport.

It was with aching bones and an empty heart that she drew her hood over her head once more, slipping into the crowd of city goers beneath white skyscrapers. Rey was quick to note a significant First Order presence, though they didn’t intimidate her anymore. It was business as usual, these days: stay out of the Stormtroopers’ way and they would likely be too dense to notice anything peculiar. Besides, Lothal had recently been subjugated to the terror of the Knights of Ren and she suspected they were still recovering.

For the first time— _properly_ —since leaving the Rakata system, Rey glanced at the contact information Kaytoo had provided. There were two names: the first, Eillib Druol, seemed like it belonged to a person. Beneath it were the words “The Gallery”, which sounded suspiciously _not_ like it would be what it immediately sounded like. Considering she had no idea who this Eillib Druol was or where _or how_ to find them, she figured it best to start with the latter.

Capital City was cleaner than she’d expected, and newer—though she supposed most of it had been destroyed during the Galactic Civil War and had had to be rebuilt. The place seemed industrial, located at the edge of the plains and bordered by water on one side. She’d seen hydroelectric plants on her descent, alongside cone-shaped reactors with billowing plumes of steam. Overall the place seemed relatively peaceful, all things considered—and exclusive of the hazy air, which tasted of smoke and ash from the fires to the west. She hadn’t noticed any signs of military combat on her approach, though, so she assumed the fires were natural. _Wouldn’t be surprising, considering how dry everything is,_ Rey let herself think, her automatic instinct comparing Lothal to the rich humidity of Rakata Prime, having spent so long in that system. Already she felt her lips starting to chap, as they had on Jakku from the lack of moisture.

Rey checked that her hood was pulled generously over her head one last time and pushed into Capital City, her footsteps quick with adrenaline and the change in environment. She had a new mission for herself. She could do this.

 

 

Night was falling by the time she’d crossed the city on foot to The Gallery. _Better by foot than any other,_ she thought, since there was always the risk of being short a ticket or I.D. on the public transport. And at any rate, she liked walking. Despite everything that had happened since she left Jakku, seeing new places was one of the few things that still brought her joy; she could take her time acclimating to Lothal, growing accustomed to how the air sat on her clothes and how her feet moved against the ground. Plus on foot, she learned more about a planet and its inhabitants than she ever would by transport.

The Gallery, like Lothal, was not what Rey expected. In fact... with a flush and a grit to her teeth, she had to admit she felt rather dumb for it. Considering how the name sounded distinctly like a place where people like _her_ wouldn’t be welcome, Rey nonetheless found herself dumbfounded upon discovering it was a sort of… of nightclub. It was stupid when she thought about it. Of course it was a nightclub; The Gallery was in the center of Capital City, flush with all sorts of lifeforms, lively as the night went on. She immediately knew what it was from the expensive, two-seater transports hovering out front and the grand terrace where it was situated, which overlooked one of the lower, more dimly-lit districts of the city.

“Ah, Force,” Rey muttered aloud from where she stood a safe distance away, secluded in a relatively unnoticeable alley. The Gallery was high-class and everything Rey would never be allowed in her state to enter. The place was surrounded by hedges and a too-green lawn, with a fountain sitting grandly in the middle of it all. How— _how_ —in oblivion was she supposed to get inside a place like _that,_ where she could practically smell the credits pouring from the fountain?

Rey raised her arm above her head and quickly took a whiff of herself from her armpit. _Oh, eugh._ Surely they wouldn’t take her like _this_ , dressed in rags and reeking of her own body odor. Funnily, a go in the massive fountain would probably help her smelly ordeal, but that would get her banned faster than being massively underdressed.

Her fingertips itched. _It would be so easy_ , she thought, eyeing the bouncer and recalling the ‘trooper she’d duped on Starkiller Base. It felt like such a long time ago. Another life.

It _was_ another life, kind of.

But—but _regardless,_ she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No. Out of the question. If they didn’t let her in, she’d find another way.

Rey sniffed at herself again. It would have to do for now. For some semblance of decorum, she undid her hair and spread the length of it over her shoulders, withholding a wince as she pulled her fingers through tangles that she hadn’t dealt with in several days. The ends refused to cooperate, annoyingly so, in the way uncooperation happened with hair that hadn’t been trimmed in years. At least the length of it would give her some class, Rey suspected. If they managed to see past all of the muddy awful clothing on her first.

When there was nothing else she could to do herself to make herself look like she _hadn’t_ climbed out of the nearest trench, Rey steeled herself and approached The Gallery, keeping her steps slow and deliberate. There were two bouncers by the main entrance of the hedges, eyes immediately locking onto her as she made her destination clear. When Rey stopped in front of them— _Youcandothisyoucandothisyoucandothis,_ she repeated like a running mantra in her mind—they waited, very obviously unimpressed, for her to say something. Anything.

Rey tossed her hair over her shoulder, barely managing to contain her wince when a missed tangled end snagged onto her clothes, instead making it a deliberate _ahem_ and saying, high-pitched, “Well?”

“Well indeed,” said one of them, a human. “They said they were sending someone to fix the ‘freshers. Don’t let us hold you up. It smells disgusting in there and the water’s been brown for hours.”

Rey blinked. Looking down, she saw she’d neglected to leave her bag behind; there were her tools peeking from under the flap. “Yes,” she said, slowly. “The ‘fresher. Which… which ones?” On the top of her head, she added, “Because I wasn’t ever told about there being more than one. If they’re not part of the same lot you’ll have to send for more of us. I can only do so much on my own, you know.”

The two of them looked at each other, before the human said to Rey, “How should we know? Just go in and fix them.”

Without another word and praising her luck, Rey stepped through and did her best not to rush into the club. She didn’t miss how the bouncers seemed to hold their breath as she passed. _Business as usual indeed._

It was dark inside the club, as expected, and for a moment Rey stopped in her tracks, defeated and unsure where to even start. Plush sofas lined the walls, every seat taken by elegantly-dressed individuals drinking cocktails or smoking from water pipes. Dimly-lit chandeliers cast fractured light over sleek paneled walls, and an Utapaun DJ in the corner spun a bass-heavy track with vocals in a language Rey didn’t recognize. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows behind the bar provided a view of the garden terrace.

She had no idea what this contact looked like, or how to pick them out from the glut of wealthy, likely First Order-sympathizing club patrons. If this Eillib Druol was still alive and well on Lothal, and Rey managed to find them in this whole slew of… of _wealth_ , she couldn’t assume their loyalties remained to Kaytoo and resistance. Chewing the inside of her cheek, Rey squared her shoulders and reminded herself she’d need to be very careful. _Very careful._

Well, she’d start at the bar where she could lend an ear and eavesdrop a bit, get a general feel for the place. Stealing a glance over her shoulder—it would be hardly ideal if one of the bouncers had followed her inside, but they hadn't—Rey meandered her way through a sea of bodies towards the long bar-table lined with cushioned stools. All of them were taken, but she did her best to wedge herself between two patrons and place an elbow on the table to call for a drink anyway, ignoring the human woman next to her who gave her a condescending up-down. As far as Rey was concerned—and as far as the bouncers outside were concerned, also—Rey was here on perfectly inconspicuous and legal business. Fixing 'freshers. Getting a drink between jobs.

The bartender was at the other end, so Rey waited and setting her bag at her feet, did her best to seem small and unobtrusive. For a long minute she just listened, not picking up on any conversation of interest. There was something being said about real estate in the Core to her left, something about the appreciation of Outer Rim currencies against the galactic standard credit to her right. Nothing of useful intel.

Standing there by herself, she couldn’t help thinking that finding this contact was a task much better-suited to someone smooth like Han Solo or General Organa. Not _her_. She was small and scrappy but she’d never been a chameleon nor did she possess a silver tongue. Rey looked down at her feet. Everything was so _hard_ without them. She knew she had to keep on, but all of this, this, this...  _responsibility_ was so daunting sometimes, without anyone to share the burden.

“Something to drink?” a soft feminine voice asked, demanding Rey’s attention.

Rey glanced up and nearly said no out of instinct before she froze, dumbstruck. The last thing she’d expected to see here was a familiar face. All thoughts from earlier during her time on Rakata, her journey to Lothal, the mind-numbingly peculiar dream, her short time on Lothal in Capital City so far—all of it gone in a single moment. She hadn’t seen a familiar face for years.

“A drink?”

Rey shut her mouth, still in awe.

It was Lieutenant Connix.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who aren't as familiar, lt. connix is played by Billie Lourd in the sequel trilogy!
> 
> thanks for reading. As always, we're active online either on tumblr ([articianne](http://haikoui.tumblr.com), [holocroning](http://holocroning.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([articianne](https://twitter.com/articianne), [holocroning](https://twitter.com/holocroning)) so if you have questions, feel free to send em our way!

**Author's Note:**

> follow us at [holocroning](https://holocroning.tumblr.com/) and [articianne](https://articianne.tumblr.com/)/[haikoui](https://haikoui.tumblr.com/)!


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